The Rift
by Ryth76
Summary: Old!story. A pregnant woman from the real world ends up in LotR. She ends up at the mercy of Mordor and caught in the middle of a war over the dimensional tear known as 'the Rift'. ABANDONED. REWRITE IN THE WORKS.
1. Prologue & Into Middle Earth

_Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings and I do not profit from writing this. The same goes for all chapters now and onward of this story. _

**A/N: Look, I remembered the disclaimer! Welcome to my longest and most loved LotR fanfiction ever: unedited (only grammar and spelling fixes have been done, but tell me if I missed any errors!), unfinished, and uncut! Welcome to:**

**The Rift  
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**Prologue**

Watch her.

The _Bullet_-class hover-ship swings over the planet rim to peer into the broad war-zone that is space. It has been two months of secret training since she first passed through the Rift into her dream world, her realm of fandom. The magnificent paradox of fantasies come alive.

She is the wisest, quickest, and most powerful in this realm called_ Galaxy Gold._ And the most dead. But now she waits. Watching, listening for the moment she knows must come. Ah! It has come! Her hero and crush, handsome space pirate Grifoldi, is pinned between two mighty _Warcrafts_. She can see his sleek ship, darting about desperately. He shouldn't escape; he never has, yet the thought fails her ultimate wisdom. Such is her folly.

Her guns flash, glowing red beneath the tiny warship.

Watch her now.

They hit the nuclear engines of one _Warcraft_. The ship shudders, blaring with fire… Watch. It shudders, flaring gold-red fire. The universe snaps out of existence.

She is no more.

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**Chapter One: In Middle-Earth**

_Universal Year 09_

_Middle-Earth, November, year 3015 of the 3rd Age_

_Earth year A.D 2005_

I shivered, my side resting in cool semi-dry mud. My back pressed against dusty rocks. I knew I was dead. My entire world had fallen. Mark, the man I'd loved, was dead; drowned in the tsunami that had swept away so many lives in India. My family had died with him, leaving me homeless and jobless.

It had felt strange, flying back to America alone, and painful. It also felt strange knowing my grandparents were no longer there, waiting for the next yearly visit. It was grief and agony. When we first came, everyone had responded to our situation in their own way. Snooty looks, unsure congratulations, or honest jubilation. I wouldn't have wished a deluge on any of them.

Nick, my boyfriend's best friend, had helped me out upon hearing of the disaster, directing me to the_ Universal Coalition of Secretaries and Wardens_, where he worked. Unfortunately, on the way to my first interview in a place called Arda there had been a horrific accident and I had wound up in the middle of nowhere.

I was in a fantasy world, Middle-Earth.

Memories surged through my mind. I remembered it clearly. I had been flipping through the map-book, looking for Arda, in the jet when it happened. I remembered looking out the window after the gray blur. I saw green fields by a river divided from a dark cloudy wasteland surrounded by black mountain range and dying land. There was no sign of the road I knew I should see. Despite this, the land had looked strangely familiar. "Where are we?" I muttered to no one in particular. I turned back to the maps.

I looked down at the map of Arda, and cried out, "Middle-Earth? What's going on?"

Nick's co-worker, Barbara, had then told me, "We're not in the right place. Just a miscalculation. We'll be reaching Lothlorien an hour later than we thought. I suggest you make yourself comfortable until then. When we get there, you must climb into one of the pods back there and click the red bu— Evasive action! Code Red!" She suddenly shouted. The jet tilted to the side and there was a high pitched shriek heavy with hatred and stinking of death and despair. I cringed at the answering squeal of metal. I looked out the window, heart pounding. A black bat-like wing crumpled against the jet and _something_ struggled to escape the pull of the turbine, though far too big to be sucked in. The body slammed into the jet, crashing into the turbine. There was a whine and another horrible shriek.

"Joanne! Go!" I heard Barbara terror-laden scream.

I ran down the aisle. There was a dull rumble from outside. The cockpit door opened. I saw two figures running out of a thick veil of smoke, but fire blared between us. Then I was falling. I opened my parachute and I heard the sound of thunder rending the earth. There was intense heat above my head.

I had fallen from the sky soundlessly and slowly. As soon as I touched solid ground I had run until I couldn't run anymore. I hid in the shadow of the mountain and cried myself to sleep.

I fought a wave of nausea as I slowly sat up. I retched onto the earth and clamped a hand over my stomach protectively over the life that grew within. I smiled with saddened peace and stood. I clutched at the stones with a hand, abating my dizziness. I looked around carefully for anything that may tell me where I was. Somewhere near an active volcano, most likely, with dusk coming on. I looked up. Mountains, ugly mountains that didn't bring any known country to mind, leered over me like gruesome teeth. A shiver ran through my frame. I'd seen ugly places before, but this reminded me of _Lord of the Rings._

Well, there was nothing for it. I needed to find food for me and the baby. Hungry and tired, I trudged down the dusty road along the mountains, looking for society. I felt fatigued from both my plight and my child-adapting body. I folded my arms over my chest for warmth and kept my head down to avoid looking up at the mountains. They didn't help my stomach any. Neither did the smell for that matter. A sick vapor rose from a small stream nearby, sending my head reeling. Suddenly I became aware of eyes and looked up. My heart stopped.

Ahead of me, about ten miles, was a faintly glowing tower. I felt sick as I stared at the blackened tips and deathly pale stones. The tower looked like a giant watching beast peering coldly about, ready to slay. Minas Morgul…

I quickly hid from its sight, near tears of fear. My stomach lurched within me. I laid a shielding hand over my abdomen. I swallowed. Either I could go up that road, endangering myself and my baby with the orcs and witch-king, or I could turn away and face starvation or worse looking for Gondor. I didn't know my way about the land and the orcs certainly looked to kill me on the spot. I considered my grim choices breathlessly.

There were hoofbeats. A thick blanket of fear enveloped me and I shuddered. A large gauntlet hand seized my shoulder so that I cried out. A cold hollow voice spoke. "Who are you?"

I knew him immediately. I didn't dare keep silent. "J-Joanne Sanders," I said, filled with dire terror of the Nazgûl-lord.

"Were you the one riding that… mechanical beast?"

"I was a passenger."

"I see. Come with me!" He grabbed my wrist painfully and dragged me onto his black steed, forcing me to sit in front of him. I couldn't resist a strangled scream of pure terror. Fear for my unborn child flared through me. A black gauntlet dug like clawed fingers into my shoulder and I struggled. The Wraith-king had to fight to hold me and steer his beast. The black blanket of terror engulfed me and I passed out.

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**A/N: Of course, my writing abilities have hopefully improved since I wrote this a few years ago and this story is riddled with plot-holes. Don't even bother telling me about them. There's a reason why I contemplated writing Rift Version 2.0 before I stopped liking LotR. **

**For those who saw my story on FicWad: I am so sorry for not updating it there, but FicWad has an error that prevents me from logging on. I haven't been able to log in since I joined and posted the first chapter and did my profile (which is now very outdated).  
**


	2. Gorbag

_A/N: And I finally update.  
_

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Chapter Two: Gorbag**

When I woke up, we were galloping toward the cruel gates. Terror pounded into me, bleeding out all sense in me. The Witch-king laid a heavy cold hand on my neck and I shivered. Minas Morgul loomed above us like a satanic cathedral. And we were heading straight for it. I retched, my queasiness doubled. I couldn't wipe the bile and tears off my face and chin.

The horse galloped up the bridge and, with a horrible roar, ran through the gates into the courtyard. Orcs scrambled around, grunting and snarling like beasts. The Witch-king pushed me out of the saddle half-heartedly. I flopped on the ground with a grunt. For a second I panicked, then remembered how my doctor had panned the idea that just falling could hurt an unborn baby. There was the sound of harsh chuckling around me, like a bunch of school bullies laughing at seeing a smaller kid pushed into the mud. _Oh, so you like farce, eh?_ I thought at the Orcs, gritting my teeth and fighting against dizziness and tears.

Fear swept over me as the Morgul-king turned to me. "What business have you with the king of the Nine?"

"None. I came here… here," I shakily handed him the company letter, still cowering on the ground. The Witch-king looked at it. He hissed, "You are a worker of UCSW?"

I hesitated, fearing to say the wrong answer. "Yes…"

The Orcs looked interested, but also disappointed now. I took heart in the fact. The Nazgûl lord's invisible eyes burned straight through me. "Captain Gorbag, take her to the Dark Tower."

The orc Gorbag stepped forward, a bowed creature with tinted armor and a chain in his right ear. Above his nearly normal nose and calm, cloudy blue eyes, he had light bushy eyebrows. Lank hair clung to his skull. My first instinct was to cry out in startled recognition, then to struggle as he yanked me up with hard merciless hands. The Orcs mistook it for fear and pain and snickered, afraid to laugh aloud in the Nazgûl's presence. I heard the Ringwraith hiss other orders to Gorbag. The captain looked at me, but his words were to his men. "This will be fun." His accented voice sounded even more coldly serpentine than in the movies.

The Witch-king said hollowly, "Do not harm her. She is a Warden." He handed Gorbag some orc clothes.

Gorbag chattered his teeth in stark terror, but didn't answer. The Nazgûl turned and mounted his Morgul-horse. I cried out desperately, "But I have to go back!"

The Witch-king swiveled toward me. "That will be His doing." He turned to Gorbag and said, "You have orders to keep her safe or you will suffer long and slow."

The Black Rider spurred his horse and the horse reared, sweeping through the gates like a storm. Nazgûl let out a high pitched screech into the darkness. The sound raked my ears and froze my blood. I was left with the wraith's subjects, shaken, afraid, but not blindly terrified. Gorbag, terror all but forgotten, snarled at me, pale eyes gleaming with a cold light. "Fine." He dropped the dirty sable garments on the ground and kicked them towards me. "Put these on."

I touched them cautiously and grimaced, swiftly feeling sick by the mere stench and feel of the garments. They hadn't been washed since they were first made in some forgotten time, if they were even made with clean cloth at one time at all. There were only three words for the texture: rough, filthy, and sweaty. "No way."

"We can't take you to the Eye wearing those. It's not allowed. It's either that or go naked," Gorbag looked amused at the prospect. I steeled my nerves as best I could and picked them up.

I looked at the Orcs expectantly. "Where am I supposed to change?"

"Right here," Gorbag sneered. He was grinning now like death's leering mask. The Orcs cheered and clapped in approval. I stared at the Orcs. "Here? Now? With you watching?"

The Orcs laughed. "Of course!"

They waited eagerly for me to strip. I set the clothes carefully on the ground, front sides on the ground. I dragged the orc-tunic to my lap. I flipped off my shirt and pulled on the shabby tunic with my back to the Orcs, both for privacy and to hide the faint bulge that gave away my condition. I heard some murmuring, but nothing more. I slipped into the leggings with blue jeans still on.

I turned back to the Orcs. Gorbag snarled like a dog. "Fine then. Let's go."

Following Gorbag's lead, I scrambled through the evil city, losing him now and again in the busy walkways. His men didn't follow us. Apparently whoever acted as his lieutenant was handling them. His wasted visage vanished from my view again as he turned sharply to one side. Not expecting this, I hurried after him shouting for him to slow down. I stopped and looked back and forth. No Gorbag. Sweaty and panting for air, I sunk against the stone wall. A hard hand like a claw shook me. "Come on!"

I staggered up like a drunkard and hurried after the already vanishing orc. Gorbag's ugly head reappeared from a dark passage. "This way! Keep up or I'll drag you!"

I stumbled after him, wanting desperately to say, "I don't have orc legs!"

Lungs burning and legs ready to give out beneath me, I struggled to see where he was now. It was too dark to see far in front of me. "Grab a torch, you fool!" I heard him snap irritably. I looked around, certain he couldn't mean one of the torches that lit the dim city. Seeing no other alternative, I reluctantly took one torch and hurried after him, now not only tired but also burdened down by the extra weight in my hand. Gorbag was waiting for me to catch up, but as soon as I came within a hundred yards, he turned and ran, vanishing like mist into the darkness. I shouted after him, no air in my lungs to form intelligible words, and stumbled after him, lightheaded and ready to fall over.

I concentrated most of my sight on the ground. Abruptly there was the heady scent of orc sweat mingled with the acrid scent of anger and ancient fear. There was a sharp turn and I collided with Gorbag, lights flashing before my eyes and the breath that hung in my mouth was knocked out. I heard his startled grunt and we tumbled down together to the ground. I gagged and spat out filthy orc hair. I retched fruitlessly and, unable to go any further, rolled aside, gasping for air. Gorbag stood up and pulled my head up by the hair. I gasped, eyes tearing up at the sharp pain. He dragged me to my feet and, still clutching my hair in a dirty hand, started running again. I was forced to keep up or fall toward the ground. I never touched the ground, even though I desperately wanted to. I struggled backwards in protest, refusing to be treated so cruelly.

I received a heavy blow to my temple. "None of that! You'll have a chance for rest soon enough."

We stumbled down together down the hall. The hall quickly shifted into an opening and we dashed out of the dark city. Or rather Gorbag dashed and I was dragged behind him. There was unkind space around us. The two gargoyles stood ahead of us, then swept behind us. Gorbag pushed me ahead of him and I stumbled up the first flight of stairs, shoved and pushed ever upward. My chest felt compressed and my legs were numb. I clutched the stones with my hands, afraid of falling. It seemed we toiled up the narrow stairway for hours. Gorbag was struggling to move faster, I was struggling just to keep moving. Suddenly, there came a hard shove from behind me and I all but fell onto firm ground. I lay still against the cold stones, a trembling pile without wind. Gorbag said from above and behind me, "Rest while you can."

I didn't need to be told. I was asleep almost before he was finished talking.

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_A/N: Nothing to say for this chapter._


	3. Through Cirith Ungol

_A/N: This one is editted. There was a major error where I tried to combine the books and movie version of Shelob's lair. They contrasted each other and made little sense in the story, so I opted for the book version detail in this case._

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**Chapter Three: Through Cirith Ungol**

Not much later, I awoke with a start, thinking myself back at home and late for an important interview. "Come on, now! We can't linger all night!" Hard, cold fingers pinched the back of my neck and dragged me up. I gasped in shocked pain. It hadn't been a dream. I was stuck in Middle-Earth, in Mordor, with an orc dragging me around like a piece of trash. The orc, Gorbag, was already scrambling up and away at a tremendous pace. I hurried up after him as best as my cramping legs could let me. My stomach hadn't improved in my sleep, having been long empty for little over twenty-four hours. I worried about my child.

Considering his twisted and crooked build, Gorbag moved with substantial agility and speed, clamoring up a stony outlook that now appeared before us. He wasn't running nearly as fast as before, but he was still moving considerably swifter than I would've liked. I slipped on the slick rocks and crashed down to my knees, skinning my right one. I staggered back up and limped after him. He was far ahead now, leaving only a quickly vanishing shadow along the wall for me to see. Not that I needed to see his shadow to know where to go now. But I didn't want to be left alone, even if my only companion was a heartless villain.

The heartless villain called down, "Oi!"

I sat for a moment, gulping down air, before shouting in frustration, "I'm moving as fast as I can!"

There came no answer. I muttered a complaint under my breath and staggered on. It seemed many hours before I had to take another break or else fall on my face. After resting for a few moments, I began climbing again. I looked up. Gorbag wasn't too far ahead now. He was crouched at the end of the winding stairs, waiting rather intolerantly for me to come up. I flinched, but hurried as best I could. I wouldn't be dragged by the hair again if I could help it. I struggled up the last steps, and then a hard hand grabbed my wrist, cold as ice, and hauled me up.

I stood up, stiff and sore from the long climb. I wondered why the Orc had bothered waiting, then I saw where we were. The spider's lair loomed ahead. A horrible stench billowed from it, stale and rotten. Bowels reeling within me, I shuddered and shrank closer to the lesser evil's side, brandishing my torch in defense against the darkness ahead. "Keep an eye out for Shelob," Gorbag growled.

"The spider?"

The orc captain gave me a curdling look that questioned my intelligence, but didn't answer. I guessed it was the spider. We entered the dank cave. Gorbag grabbed my wrist and pulled me silently along. Neither of us spoke out of fear. I didn't argue with him dragging me this time. I had no way to go back and there was too many turns and drops for me to find the way myself. I was nearly paralyzed with sickened fear. Once I grazed the sticky webbing on the wall and started to let out a high pitched squeal of disgusted surprise, letting my torch fall, but a cold hand slapped over my mouth, muffling it. There was silence in the pitch around us. We waited for a tense moment, but only silence lurked. We moved along carefully. I walked on ahead of Gorbag, giving him the privilege of having his back conveniently toward Shelob. Certainly I knew Shelob wouldn't get him, but he wouldn't know that

Presently we stopped. "This way," my foul guide hissed into my air, his hot, foul breath beating on my cheek and ear. He hauled me up a steep stone little less than a man's height, and we went on. He stopped and said, "She can't come here. We've not far to go now."

I took a deep breath and gagged on the stench. Gorbag took a swig from his water bottle, then shoved it into my hands. It was disappointingly light. "Drink what you can."

I shook it carefully and heard the heartening sound of water sluicing around. I took some carefully, and nearly choked at the unexpected burning sensation and near medicinal taste. I swallowed a mouthful of the orc-draught, the heat rushing through my veins, and handed it back. My legs no longer hurt and I could walk, but now I felt feverishly warm inside. Alcohol? I trembled, recalling the warnings given to the pregnant women. I took a shuddering breath and considered. If it came between having a retarded child and dying, there was nothing for it. I said, with a calmness I didn't feel, "Thank you."

The orc didn't answer. He yanked me onward until at last we stumbled out of the tunnel into a cleft. We hurried as best we could until we drew near to the tower of Cirith Ungol. The tower seemed to work more backwards than up. I hadn't noticed that much in the movies. Gorbag said from behind me, "We'll rest here for a time. If Shagrat'll allow."

I flinched but didn't answer. More orcs? There was an uproar from the tower and the double doors opened. I froze, filled with stark terror. Only Gorbag's hand on my neck kept me moving forward. He pushed me aside to greet the Captain of the tower, a pale uruk with white-hair who towered over me. Intimidated, I tried to withdraw as much as I could without leaving my cruel guide's side. I had only the smallest amount of trust towards him, despite his orders to keep me safe, but a small amount of trust was still trust. The air stunk with the smell of ale and orc.

Shagrat growled, "What are you doing here, Gorbag? Deserting?"

"Taking her to Lugbúrz."

The uruk seemed to notice me for the first time. I cringed away. He stared me over for a moment, then asked, "What she wanted for?"

Gorbag answered, turning his head slightly toward me, "She's one of the Wardens. I have orders to take her to the Eye personally."

"A Warden for Barad-dûr? Why would He need an Outsider's help?"

"She's not His Warden. She's nobody's, it would seem. She was supposed to be with the accursed elves."

Shagrat looked at me with a typical nervous orc grunt. He fingered his scimitar. "We should get rid of her."

"That's what I'm trying to do," Gorbag snarled. "Take her to Him so he can deal with her."

I flinched, near tears. What were they going to do? I had to get out of there while I could. I inched carefully to one side, towards one of the narrow windows. I glanced over to the Orcs. Gorbag and Shagrat weren't looking at me. Holding my breath, I carefully lifted one leg over edge, feeling for a ledge. Hard fingers snatched at my fingers and Gorbag's other hand clutched my wrist, claw-like nails digging into my flesh. "Ai! Get back in here!"

He dragged me back. "You fool! There's no way down," he snarled, pushing me into the wall. I heard him continue to Shagrat, "We'll rest here for only a few days, then leave with some soldiers."

"Nar! I need them here. A new batch of slaves is due to come any day now. Leave with them."

Gorbag shifted. "Fair enough."

Shagrat walked away. Gorbag prodded me after him. We followed the tower for a surprisingly short distance. He only gestured us toward a room and left with a displeased growl. Shagrat mustn't have liked having Morgul-orcs around. I peaked into the room from over Gorbag's armored shoulders. There were two mats on the ground and a chamber pot. It made me sick thinking of orcs needing to use it. I avoided looking.

Gorbag went in first and settled down on one of the mats. I just stood there hesitantly, suddenly very uneasy. Share a room with an orc? They might as well have asked me to fly. I moved my cot carefully to the corner farthest from him and closest to the doorway. I shuddered in revulsion at the thought of traveling with a horde of disgusting, evil orcs, defenseless and ignorant of all forms of self-defense.

I sunk stiffly onto the mat, eyes warily on the orc little over five meters from me. The orc's pale blue eyes rolled sideways to me. He sneered, finding my fear deeply amusing. I clenched my jaw beneath the foul cloth they'd given me for a blanket. His sneer slackened and his eyes slowly glazed over like a dead beast's. For a time I struggled to stay awake to be sure he was asleep, but weariness defeated me. I closed my eyes and saw no more that night.


	4. Morhont

**A/N: well look who decided to stop being lazy and update. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Four: Morhont**

I woke with a sharp jolt. I looked over at Gorbag. His eyes were open, but still glazed. I sat up with a groan. I felt as though someone had beaten me all day, or rather all night. I hadn't eaten anything since I'd left home, unless that horrible orc-draught counted. I felt despair rise within me, not knowing if I would ever see Earth again, and fearing the worst for my infant.

I rolled over, not sure what to do. I stood, careful not to awake my orc-guardian, and slipped out the door. I could hear faint angry shouting from outside and a whistling crack. Two orcs interested in what was going on were blocking my path to freedom. I knelt carefully to pick up a piece of rubble. My hands trembled so hard I could barely keep hold of the piece, let alone throw it. I gathered myself to throw it. I heard the sound of iron shod feet beating upon stones and the sharp snapping sound growing louder in time to the barking orders. Horns sounded from above. I dropped the rubble with a start. The two orcs hurried on with flat grunts.

I looked over my shoulder at Gorbag. He was awake and standing now. I asked, "What's happening?"

"They're here," someone answered me and clunked me on the back of my head with stale bread from who knew when. I pocketed it reluctantly, feeling a little worse looking at it. Perhaps I would find some water or ale to dip it in.

I followed Gorbag carefully to the front gate. A motley group of orcs, the most wretched group I'd ever seen, stood gathered in a line. There must've been at least fifty of them. Shagrat was trading words with an odd-looking orc. I recognized him from his abrasive snarl and startling black eyes. Right then they were staring coldly up at the taller orc captain from beneath hairless brows. His mouth was filled with narrow, rotten teeth. His conspicuous hooked nose gave him a perpetual scornful look. Behind the bald crown of his head, pale, long stringy hair spilled down. His armor was tattered looking next to Gorbag's Gondor-esque armor or even Shagrat's shabby Mordor-uruk armor. Like Gorbag, he didn't wear chain mail, though his armor seemed more complete. But only one shoulder had a guard; the sable sleeve of his orc-tunic covered the left. He smelled strongly of dried orc-sweat and held a coiled whip in his right hand.

He sounded furious—well, more furious than normal—though I didn't catch a word passed between him and Shagrat. I caught the word Warden and the newcomer cast a doubtful glance in my general direction. He took Shagrat aside, as though we could hear him to begin with, and they whispered quietly together. It sounded like a near argument. Aggravated, I turned to Gorbag. "What was that about?"

"Nothing."

I bit my lower lip and waited. The newcomer nodded, some sort of agreement having passed between them, and Shagrat walked away to look over the waiting orcs. The black-eyed orc turned his immediate attention to us. He frowned, slowly scowling as though sizing us up critically and not liking what he saw, to my indignation.

I gritted out. "Is there a..." I hesitated, not knowing the stranger's title. I remembered him a little from Return of the King, but I didn't know his rank. Apparently, he had some authority. "Problem… Captain?"

He started and stared at me for a moment. I flinched, and avoided his black gaze. He simply growled, "No."

He walked away without a word to have a word with Shagrat. I heard Gorbag's snigger on the side. I glowered. "What's so funny?"

"Morhont hasn't been captain for half a millennia."

"Half a millennia?" I gasped. "How can that be? Sauron didn't return to Mordor until recently."

Ugly rows of teeth flashed at me. "We can handle ourselves alone quite fine. He isn't the one who makes Captains. Morhont is an orc-driver."

"A what?"

"An orc-driver. Someone who drives slaves."

I gave a shudder of revulsion. "A slave-driver?"

Gorbag snarled, "Of course, you little fool! Why the whip if he isn't a driver, I ask?"

I couldn't answer to that. It nearly made sense, but I was still very much confused. The crouched figure looked sickly amused. "I believe you've just gotten into his good books. But we're still in for a rough journey, so don't expect the royal carpet."

"If speed will get us to the Dark Tower sooner, the sooner I'll be able to go home and off your hands." And the sooner I'll be able to take a prenatal test and eat real food, I thought privately. I didn't speak my sentiments. Why waste words on a beast of darkness?

Gorbag sneered at me, "Don't hope too soon. I don't see why they want me to take you to Lugbúrz; it's a waste of my time and energy. But a little entertainment would be fun."

Shagrat passed by with a string of slaves behind him and the orc-driver Morhont watching the end. We waited for a few moments before Morhont returned alone. The orc-driver seemed pleased, or at least as pleased as an orc could look. He said, "We're done here. Let's go." He flashed me a leering glance. "Can you keep up?"

I started to say I'd do my best. Gorbag interrupted. "She'll be fine. She just needs to be kept in line."

I half-expected the other orc to make a comment with both me and his whip in it. Instead, he said, "Very well. Stay in the back!"

He let out a yell, his whip cracking, and the entire pitiful band of orc-slaves stumbled forward. Gorbag and I waited for the drive to move on ahead before starting after them. Slowly but surely, like the engine of a living train, a hundred feet sped up and we darted into the night. Even though we were in the back and not even with the slaves, I was hard put to it. Sooner than I'd expected, sweat drenched me and I began to struggle after them at an injured stagger. The slave-band slowly drew away from us. I saw Morhont swing his whip at a lagging slave and tried to hurry to avoid the same treatment, but my legs didn't want to cooperate. Gorbag kept to my pace, only five paces ahead of me. The slave-band seemed to speed into the darkness, only a salute of Morhont and the slaves left to be seen. My leg buckled beneath me and the earth began to rise to meet me. I used my other leg to counteract the fall, collapsing in a kneeling position. I put a hand to my stomach in reflex.

Gorbag yelled to the driver from somewhere above my head. "Halt! Morhont! Tell them to halt!"

Morhont shouted something. I looked weakly up at the orcs in the distance. They waited for me to stumble back into line, giving me nearly grateful glances when I failed to even stand. The orc-driver looked very upset. Perhaps angry and disgusted would be a better term.

"You two!" He snarled to a couple of orcs in the back. "Carry her! We need to cover all the ground we can tonight."

Two slaves limped out of line as fast as their sore legs could take them. Morhont yelled, "Move, you slugs!" He cracked his whip at the other orcs. I felt hard hands seize me, then everything, both light and dark, fled from sight.

I don't know how long I slept, sinking into dark dreams, but after a long time I awoke feeling sick and my head throbbing like a drum. Gorbag was bickering with Morhont to the side in a question of direction. Apparently, Gorbag wanted us to use the fastest route to Barad-dûr, but Morhont wouldn't hear of it. He had slaves to bring to some of the orc strongholds to the northwest. It would be much better just to follow the road near the mountains.

I drifted back to sleep. I became aware of my orcs halting and something wet and a little gritty being poured down my throat. From afar, Morhont hollered for speed, then with a jolt we continued. They dropped me and I stumbled to my feet to hurry after them. In the distance I could see the sharp pinnacle of a distant tower. I gave a groan of relief, unsure of my feet.

I ran after the orcs vanishing into the gate, then the outer world was shut out behind me. The slaves didn't stop until Morhont drove them into various dungeon cells. The slaves lay in quivering wet heaps, sides heaving for breath. The driver came out, lathered in orc-sweat, locked the last cell, then limped to the side and collapsed at last against the wall. Beads of sweet dripped into glazed black glinting under hooded eyes, but the orc made no move to wipe his eyes. Morhont gazed broodingly into empty space, sound asleep already. Gorbag settled down nearby. Silence fell over the smelly dungeons except for distant weeping and the slaves gasping raggedly for breath. Some of them would be lucky enough to stay behind, but I had till Barad-dûr to stand being driven like cattle by the severe former captain. And for what? It would probably be the death of my child and I. I was no orc. I was an American twenty-two year old and expecting. I couldn't do this.

Sore and sick from the overpowering stench of sweaty orcs and grief, I closed tearing eyes, dark dreams taking me.


	5. Journey's Path

**A/N: Finally, I send in an update...**

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**Chapter Five: Journey's Path**

"Wake up!" I heard Morhont's rough voice in my ear like a sledgehammer. "We're leaving. Get up!"

I rolled over, desperately trying to gather just a few more minutes of much needed sleep. I heard his persistent snarl, "Hey! I said get up!" The driver grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me hard, squeezing my arms with his full strength, my unsupported head falling back to slam into the stones. I saw stars. I cried out, tears filling my eyes. "Okay! Okay! I'm up! Let go!"

He let me go. I flopped back down with a pained groan, head throbbing painfully from my morning abuse. The stench and lack of food upset my stomach. Someone stepped over to me with a flask. I hesitated, remembering my child and doctor, then the long, hard journey ahead. I took it and swallowed down the foul, burning liquid. My arms stopped hurting and my legs felt better. It even abated my nausea. Perhaps it wasn't liquor after all. As I chewed the dry chunk of bread from the day before, knowing I'd get no better today, Gorbag said, "We'll be going at a slower pace today, thanks to you. It's getting late as it is."

There was the sound of impatient footsteps. Morhont returned. "Hurry up, you! Move it!"

I snapped, "I have a name. I'm not a slave."

"Of course not. You're a Warden," Gorbag answered coolly, pale eyes gleaming at me in cruel, alienating amusement.

"My name is Joanne."

"Fine, _Joanne_," Morhont snarled through rotted teeth, his orc-accent crudely twisting my name. I refused to look in his direction. My own name was like stab-wounds in my heart. My stomach churned, disagreeing with my morning fare. Feeling very green, I stood up. My throbbing head spun. I croaked, "When do we go?"

"Now. Keep up!" Morhont snapped, storming off with whip in hand. I muttered, "Yes, Captain Hothead."

Gorbag laughed quietly. We returned to the slave-drive. Some had indeed stayed but the drive was now replenished. Nearly a hundred stood in fretful rows. Morhont was pacing back and forth, his irritation vigorously clear. Gorbag and I stepped two yards behind the drive and waited for Morhont.

I heard the harsh yell and crack, then we went on. My stomach was still fusing within me. Either I had actually gotten stronger from my hard ordeal, or the pace was slower as Gorbag had commented, but I had less trouble keeping up. Ahead of us, Morhont watched the slaves, forcing them to keep to the pace, no faster and no slower. I panted to Gorbag, "How far is Lugbúrz?"

"It's a five day journey by the road. Pity we couldn't have gone the shorter route. That would've been only two." He stopped just long enough to take a drink from his flask.

"I heard Shagrat say these were Durthang orcs. What did he mean?"

"Durthang is a tower near Isenmouthe. It's an information center for poor fools like you."

I'd never heard of orc-holds, Durthang, or Isenmouthe and I couldn't grasp his last comment, so I feigned understanding. The road swiveled a sharp, downhill right. I nearly tripped, but Gorbag caught me by the hair and pushed me on ahead. Morhont shouted near the front, "Pick up the pace! Leg it!"

I wished I dared slow down to wipe the sweat from my eyes. My throat was parched and I couldn't work up any saliva. It seemed I wasn't sweating as much either. I struggled to forget my own weariness, concentrating on the rhythm of pounding shoes and the occasional cracking of the whip.

Morhont shouted for a halt. I sunk to the ground. Some time later, an orc-slave grabbed me by the chin and I felt something round and leathery bump into my teeth. I drank the muddied water, then fell into dark dreams.

I dreamed of Mark and the way he'd softly made love to me in his apartment. His warm laugh and bright smile haunted me. He would sneak up on me to rub the back of my neck gently.

My dream took a turn for the worst, probably about the same time the orcs started moving again, seizing me up. I was standing, watching him take pictures of the sea of sand. Suddenly a great wave crashed over land. It was nightmarishly real, but from the foam orcs stormed roaring and screaming out. Gorbag's long orc-scimitar slashed my love across the chest. Mark fell dead. My heart rent in two and I screamed, then the dream fled me.

I woke up with a jerk, banging my head against one slave carrying me. He let out a grunt of surprise and lifted a heavy hand to smack me across the face. I cried out and struggled to pull out of his reach. Startled, the other orc carrying me let go. The angered slave couldn't compensate the sudden additional weight. I fell down, twisting my right ankle beneath me. Heat and sharp pain pounded through it. I cried out. Morhont hollered from afar, "Pick her up! Pick her up, or I'll make you squeal!"

The orc slaves complied grudgingly, though the angered slave took every chance he could to jar me. I wanted desperately to sleep. I was aware of being passed to fresh slaves. The driver hollered for a halt. My carriers cast me aside. A chunk of dried raw meat clobbered my head. I ignored it. I wouldn't eat an orc's raw meat unless I was near death's door. I tried to drift back to sleep, then I became aware of rough hands on my injured foot. I shouted and kicked. Gorbag snapped, "Stop that! This will only take a moment."

Morhont's hoarse snarl answered, "It'd better."

Gorbag didn't reply. He smeared something sticky on my ankle. Instantly, my injury began burning. It felt like bee stings. I screamed and struggled, inadvertently kicking him in the face with my other leg. He shouted and pressed the offending limb into the ground. A sharp stone dug into my calf painfully. There came a few chuckles, but they quickly died down at Morhont's sharp answering crack.

After a few moments, he gave me a drink of the horrible orc-draught. Instead of pair of fresh orcs seizing me, he dragged me to my feet. He snarled something in orcish to Morhont. The orc-driver gave him a hot stare, but didn't answer. He bellowed for the slaves to get moving.

Gorbag dragged me after them, his claws digging into my arms. I struggled to keep up with the pace. Despite their awkward stance, the orcs were going much faster than a human. Despite the heat of the draught, only Gorbag's death grip on me kept me moving. My feet barely touched the ground before pushing off again. A sharp pain darted through my stomach and I knew it was my child. It was starved and malnourished, even dying. A sense of despair took me, but I couldn't stop to weep or bemoan my fate to be forever tossed and shaken like a discarded box of shattered china.

After some time, Gorbag pushed me on ahead and let me struggle on my own. The heat of the draught was fading now. I stumbled, a sudden stitch clawing my side. A hot wind blew across the land, throwing ashes from Mount Doom. I choked on the dry dust. I covered my mouth with my hand in defense against the ash and looked over at the orcs. Even Morhont had slowed, his head turned slightly from the wind. The other orcs were braced against the dusty wind as well. I could hear Gorbag's breath hissing through his teeth near my ear. It was some time before the wind lifted.

We stopped at a cistern on the side of the road a few miles later. Gorbag and Morhont drank first, then me. The water was muddy, stunk of orcs, and tasted unpleasant, but it was beyond all I could've hoped for. The slaves drank deeply before the driver urged us on at a hard gait. I wished he would try to keep to his own demanding pace. Morhont stayed along the side, occasionally drifting to the back or hurrying to the front line, or even stopping to overlook the slaves and crack his whip, but never keeping to the pace. If the dust had choked me, the stench of orc-sweat now suffocated me.

A ravine and a high wall held us to the road. The path was narrower there and a steady crawl upward. It wasn't a terribly steep hill, but it was painful with my sore legs, the suffocating scent, and the stitch in my side. The soles of my shoes were worn nearly off and my maternally softened toenails were jarred painfully against the rocks strewn across our path. Each breath caught in my throat and I jolted forward rather than ran. I felt sick and dizzy watching the earth roll beneath my feet with each step. My sight blurred with black spots. I brushed my dark hair back, thinking that would get rid of them.

I passed out. I wasn't unaware for long, just long enough for me to fall back down the hill and nearly slip into the ravine. Someone shouted. I grappled at the stones. Claw-like fingers grabbed my shirt and dug into my arms, pulling me to safety. Gorbag and Morhont snarled in their native tongues, arguing. Gorbag's hands were gripping my arm tightly and I could feel the stone hard hand of the driver on my back, fingers flexing like claws. By the ripping sounds, my shirt was tearing from his clawing.

After a time their voices calmed and they returned to the common tongue. Gorbag snarled, "She's all right. She's been over-worked and need to find a place to recover."

"I'd say she needs to work more and get used to it. Let me make her run and there'd be no more of this," the orc-driver answered, prodding me with his whip. I flinched.

Gorbag gave him a curdling look. "Are you crazy?"

Morhont narrowed his black eyes at the other orc. He snarled, eyes snapping back open to reveal their full startling size. "Fine." He stood at last, claws digging into my flesh one last time. He barked to the orc-slaves, "We'll camp here, _snaga_. Gorbag thinks it would be too risky even to go another mile with a tired Warden." His voice dripped bitter sarcasm.

Gorbag snarled, but didn't counter Morhont's comment.

The slaves were happy with the change of plans. They wasted no time in curling up against the wall. Morhont went on ahead as we struggled to get comfortable. The land was uneven, but decidedly preferable to the stones of the dungeons. I stayed up for a little while, tired to the point of tears. Morhont returned after a time and started to settle down before noticing I was still awake. He stared for a brief moment, before turning away with a mutter. He went to sleep with a deep sigh like a dog. Gorbag rested with one leg climbing up the cliff-wall and one arm crushed under his back, the other flopped over his brow, gazing into the clouds with glazed over eyes. A slave twitched violently in his sleep before falling silent. Except for the faint rising and falling of the orcs' breathing, they looked more like slaughtered ghouls than sleeping creatures.

I wanted to sleep, but remembered the sharp pain in my stomach and my black out. I waited a moment to make sure the orcs were sleeping, then sneaked around them to find some food. I slipped over to one of the orcs lying with his food sack in sight. I carefully took out as much bread as I dared and was surprised when my hand closed over a dried fruit. Grinning, I slipped away, keeping one eye on the sleeping figure. It wasn't the wisest thing to do in the midst of a sleeping band of evil orcs.

I tripped over an orc's arm and fell over, sprawling over his prone figure. I found myself staring into the orc-driver's black eyes. I gave a start and stumbled over him. He let out a startled grunt, the glaze over his eyes clearing. I hid behind an orc and held my breath. I kept one eye on Morhont. The driver stood up and looked around. He glanced over to where I should've been. He let out an angry snarl and hurried over there. I let out the breath I'd been holding in a painfully loud sigh. The former captain froze and turned in my direction. I ducked and stuffed my prized food under me. I closed my eyes and tried to quiet my nervous breathing. I was aware of the orc hovering over me. My muscles clenched reflexively. A hard hand gripped my shoulder, claws biting into flesh. I could feel his rancid breath on my brow as he looked at me carefully. After a few horrible minutes, the driver let go and went away. I waited for a moment, then peaked over the orc body. And found myself eyeball to eyeball with Morhont.

I cried out. He grabbed my throat with an iron hand, cutting off the sound, and pulled me up. He forced me to hold his gaze. I cringed, gasping for breath raggedly.

"What're you doing? Stealing our food for yourself?" He snarled harshly in my face. I whimpered as he looked behind me to the stash of food, loosening his grip on my airway. There was a brief moment of pure silence. Morhont snarled something in his ugly language. "Thief!" A heavy fist crashed across my face, packed with hard muscle. The blow snapped my head to the side. I cried through split lips. The slaves jerked awake, including the slave under us. He quickly scrambled away to watch from a safe distance. Morhont let me go with another vicious, merciless strike. I fell to the ground, crying pathetically.

"I needed the food. I need the food!" I wailed pitifully in a near chant.

My words angered the orc-driver more. "Need the food?" He barked. "Need the food? What do you mean? Haven't we been feeding you as best we could? Thief!" He shook me by the shoulders, claws cutting into my skin so that I bled. The slaves were enjoying the show. Some even clapped and cheered.

"Please! I need it for my baby!" I sobbed, gasping for air. My heart thudded in my chest in terror for both myself and my unborn child. Morhont froze, whites showing vividly. He pushed me aside and stalked away strangely quiet. I sunk back down, crying and hurting all over.

There arose angry cries. Gorbag stormed over, Morhont two paces behind. "Why didn't you tell us you were pregnant?" He barked, losing his trademark cool.

I cringed down. "W-what are you going to do?"

The orc snarled, "We're going to get moving and not speak of this again. Your ration will be doubled four-fold. I didn't expect a Warden to be as _stupid _as some… _fan_!"

"Are… Will you… kill it?"

"Don't you know _anything_? No! Why would we be doubling your ration, fool?" Morhont snapped, voice grating. "Now be quiet!"

But I was too terribly shaken to stop crying, huddling on the ground in a trembling ball. Gorbag grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me up. He shook me by the shoulders. "Quiet!"

Rage flared through me. I was sick and tired of being dragged, pushed, tossed, and shaken like a bag of potatoes. I lunged at him, throwing my fists in his face. Gorbag was startled at the onslaught. The orcs loved it. "Can't handle a woman!" They laughed, clapping and hooting.

Morhont pulled me away. Gorbag spat out blood. I gave a fierce grin of crazed delight of seeing him hurt like I hurt. But then he gave me a cold glance that quickly dampened my rage. I shivered. He said coolly, "Morhont, tend to her." I shuddered. He stood up and went off to nurse his own bruised face.

The orc-driver pushed me back down. He took a wooden box and smeared the burning contents on my bruises. I tried unsuccessfully not to cry out. He held me still with a merciless hand. He growled, intolerantly, "You asked for it."

I didn't answer. The truth in his remark hurt. I should've told them about my pregnancy before instead of stealing. And I'd been pinching rationed food needed to keep the slaves strong enough for their longer march. It was asking for a beating. After a moment, I said stiffly, "I know."

The orc-driver only said, "Eat." And he nodded to my cache of stolen goods. I quietly obeyed and ate in silence under his heartless gaze. When I'd eaten my fill, Morhont stood up and yelled for everyone to get going. I followed dejectedly after the orcs in silence, ashamed and drained. I remained deep in thought in silence the rest of that long stretch.

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**A/N: Poor Joanne. Nice punch there though. I'd forgotten about that part.**


	6. The Gatekeepers of the Rift

_**A/N:** There were only... fourteen chapters of this story before it was discontinued, so after this chapter there are only eight more to go. _

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**Chapter Six: The Gatekeepers of the Rift**

The next few hours we marched in silence, no longer running at a fierce gait now that they knew I was pregnant. Only the cracking of Morhont's whip broke the still and his angry snarling at the weary slaves. I was sore all over and around my stretching stomach. My belly had grown a little since I'd first arrived. How long had that been? It seemed an eternity. My face was still sore from Morhont's beating. The cuts from the many orc-fingers that had gripped, carried, and clawed me were tender to the touch.

I said to Gorbag, "I'm confused. Why am I still here?"

The Morgul-orc gave me a disgusted look. "You're a Warden."

"But… I don't understand. I'm a human; you're an orc. Aren't you supposed to… torture me, rape me, then finally devour me?"

"Kill a Warden?" Gorbag inhaled sharply. "Are you mad?"

"I'm not a Warden; I don't even know why I'm here!" I cried in frustration. Quickly I regretted it. If I pretended to be a Warden, they wouldn't dare hurt me. If they knew I wasn't, what was there to stop them from killing me?

"What?" Gorbag's serpentine growl was harsh with disbelief. His hand went to his long blade immediately. "Morhont!"

I heard Morhont's abrasive roar. "Company halt!" He came back to us, upper lip curled in a silent snarl. Gorbag hissed at me. "What did you say?"

Miserably, I asserted, "I… I'm not a Warden. I don't even know what you're talking about!"

Morhont quickly assessed the situation and kept silent. Gorbag asked, "What about the Rift?"

"No, I'm sorry, but if anyone does, it's only those that have already come here."

"Coming here is not allowed. Why do you think we're taking you to Lugbúrz?"

I shrugged with false carelessness. I didn't really know myself since I knew they didn't mean harm. Gorbag treated me only a step down from a bothersome equal, but their end purpose eluded me. "I really don't know."

The orc answered, "Because the moment you touched solid ground, our lives became tied with yours. The very existence of this land depends on you not… ruining anything. What is more important, the very fact that you came here from the UCSW tells us that you are a Warden."

"But exactly _what is _a Warden?"

"A gatekeeper for the Rift. When the Rift was first made, everyone could travel the dark road. Then some worlds were destroyed by freak incidents. All were connected to the Outsiders. So the Wardens, a rare, trustworthy breed of Outsiders, joined together at the Crossroads to bar the remaining worlds.

"It took many lives before they could open the Rift to let people in. Now they'd do anything to close it, but it's too late for that now. Ironic, isn't it?" Gorbag asked with a sickly amused snicker.

His words barely sunk through. I whispered with a wave of hope, "An opening to other worlds? A path from my world to this world, and back?"

"Are your ears stuffed with dung?" The orc snarled. "Yes!"

I took a deep breath. "Okay, let me try this again. How do unwarranted Outsiders act?"

"Stupid," Morhont snarled, black eyes glinting like polished obsidian. Gorbag agreed. "Yes, yes. Very stupid. They can destroy a world by merely killing one person or saving another. Just stealing a worthless artifact or being around people higher than themselves has destroyed many a world. When they come, they act all powerful and smart, then blot themselves and the very world they supposedly know so well out. Stupid!" He spat.

I shuddered, afraid to move. "You're wrong. No one could do that. Not even their fans."

"No, you're wrong. Fans? Yes, that's what the Outsiders called them: fans. Are you a fan?"

"Well, not really, no."

Gorbag's lips widened. "Then you must be a Warden, since you meant to come here. Why else would you be here?"

"I… I needed the job. It was my boyfriend's friend who gave me the application. I was going to a job interview. I-I guess it's too late for regrets."

Morhont prodded Gorbag with his whip. The Morgul-orc's pale eyes flickered to the other orc, but he said to me, "The only thing you should regret is your coming here. You're dead to your precious world."

Sick, I looked away, despondently considering his words. "Why is it so important that I'm pregnant?"

"Because there are so few of you. It's also a nuisance to us because it means you'll be staying here for a long time. We must be careful not to break you." He made it sound like an agonizing sacrifice they had to make.

My heart stopped. "A long time? What do you mean?"

Ugly teeth flashed at me in a leering smile. He spoke as though reciting from memory, "Outsiders should not leave any Inner World if weak, injured, or followed by Inworlders. Other people not allowed are the elderly and the very young. Pregnant women are to wait three years before going back through the Rift. It could kill them and their fetus," he ended with a sneer.

My heart skipped a beat. So I was stuck here, with only a bunch of cold-blooded goblin-men around to baby-sit my child? The thought didn't sink in. I shook my head. Stay in Mordor for three years?

I shook my head again. I shouted, "No!" I turned and hurried away from the orcs. "You lie! It isn't true! Let me go!" I stumbled against a sharp pinnacle of stone and fell down. I sat there for a moment, feeling gray and numb. My eyes felt strangely dry.

"Come on!" Morhont snapped after a moment. "There's nothing you can do. Get up!"

I didn't respond for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm myself. I stood up and returned to them, numb with grief and horror. I tried to remember that the orcs hadn't beaten me for running, and neither had the orc-driver whipped me once for falling behind, and I'd done that plenty a time. I didn't quite understand, but the thought was comforting nonetheless.

The march was slow enough that I could eat while following the orcs. The food was dry though, and I was given little water. When at first I'd thought they'd not given me a flask out of cruelty, I realized that there had been no extras for me among them. Some of the slaves had to share, too, or else go without until the next cistern.

The Mordor dawn was at hand when in the road forked in two, one curving to the mountainside, and the other heading straight ahead. "The road to Durthang," Gorbag growled into my ear. We hurried on, anxious to reach the end of the longest stretch of the journey. A few miles later, the sky had turned a gruesome blood red, but no change had taken place on the tortured land. At last, in the far distance, tucked high in the mountains ahead of us, loomed an old castle, a cruel pinnacle of twisted, hewed stone thrusting out of the mountainside. Morhont gave a yell and the slaves raced. I trotted as much as I dared. Gorbag grabbed my arm and pulled me along. My protest caught in my throat and I ran along with them.

We ran up the winding road climbing up the mountain to the castle. My breath cleaved to my mouth and I began to falter. I sunk down, dizzy, but wasn't given time to recover. Hands seized me and I was thrown about the neck of one big orc slave like a piece of luggage. Not far ahead of us, Morhont shouted for us to move it. I gritted my teeth and, despite my better judgments, snapped, "We _are _moving! Can't you just shut up for five minutes?"

"Don't tell me how to do my job!" I heard him growl, his indignant voice harsh as a crow's voice. I smiled in nervous scorn to block my fear. Morhont, despite his injured pride, fell silent, using his whip as a reminder of his existence.

I took advantage of the silence and slept. I became aware of dim light, then being shoved aside onto a hard bed. I heard the heavy footsteps of the orcs walking away. A shadow fell over me. I sat up with a start. A strange orc was peering over me. I cringed away, then noticed the orc's obvious breasts and feminine, yet harsh, features. An orc-woman? I hadn't known there was such a thing. It didn't fit with the movies. Perhaps Saruman's orcs were different from the Mordor orcs.

She examined me carefully like an orcish midwife or nurse, rough and merciless. She gave a small, satisfied grunt and walked away. I heard orc-voices, growling and snarling in their uncouth tongue, then she returned and thrust a flask between my teeth, forcing something bitter down my throat. I coughed, struggling. She relieved me and I gulped down air. The room spun and I fell into dark dreams.


	7. Durthang

_Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings and I do not profit from writing this._

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**Chapter Seven: Durthang**

The world returned to me in a gray haze of rusting metal, dim light, and grays. At first I thought the figures before me were the orc-woman and Morhont, then I realized that the male's hair was a few shades darker than the orc-driver's and this orc had two slants for a nose and pointed ears, not the prominent nose and rounded ears Morhont had. Despite this, the resemblance to the orc-driver was remarkable, only his eyes were lit more by bitter pride than voracious fury. Like Morhont, in one moment malice glittered in his eyes, but when he turned his head slightly aside the next, his eyes shone with disturbing innocence.

The orc-woman grabbed my arm and yanked me up, hand squeezing down on my wrist like a vase. I cried out in startled pain. The male chuckled. The woman snarled, "Silence! You are in one piece. Are you happy? Now get!"

She gave a vicious kick. I stumbled out the door, a nice sized bruise forming where she'd hit my calf. I stood a minute looking around stupidly in the middle of the hall. I didn't know where Gorbag or Morhont were and I didn't want to get lost and possibly killed. I didn't know where I was supposed to be.

I peeked into the narrow slits in other wall. Down below, some stone huts were clustered in the shadow of the orc-hold. Some miniature orcs darted out from one, chasing the smallest one wearing a homemade crown. Each clutched a stick and snarled with mock fierceness. They cornered him and began to mock fight. Some blows were thrown and insults hurdled. Hurt and no longer interested in play or fight, they plopped down and bawled pitifully. "_Kranklob! Kranklob!_" They wailed. From the hut, an orc-woman called them and they clustered around her, still sniffling. She snapped at them in orcish. They flinched but stopped crying. She counted them carefully and led them back in.

I went down the stairwell, careful not to crash into any orc-soldiers or step out of balance. I nearly missed my orc guardians. Gorbag stepped out of the shadows, followed by the orc-driver. Their unintelligible voices struck my ears like grinding stones. They fell silent and turned to me. I swallowed and stayed back. They drew closer together and continued whispering. After a time, Gorbag returned to me.

"Morhont knows a place you can stay. Get going!" The last command was directed to the orc-driver as well. A rough hand seized my shoulder, horrible nails digging into my shirt like claws. I winced and struggled. Morhont loosened his grip a little. He marched me to one of the orc-huts sheltered within the shadow of Durthang. "Ghâshlob! Nargrish!" He barked.

A leathery orc-woman and twisted orc came out. "Morhont, what are you doing here? Lost your driver position, too now?" The orc asked, sneering down at the orc-driver.

Morhont ignored him. "Rift business, Nargrish. I need you to keep a watch on this Warden until it's time to leave. Mind you, she's pregnant."

"_Krank?_" A young orc chimed from Nargrish's side, large black eyes blinking up at the orc-driver. Morhont turned his head to stare coolly at the youngster. I blinked. Of course, Morhont would have had some children within his five hundred plus years. He must have seen my startled expression, because he said, "My clan. Stay here!"

"But-"

"Stay!" Morhont barked firmly. He stormed off. I stood there like a fool and gulped. Ghâshlob grabbed me with rough hands and partly dragged, partly led me into the hut. The inside was spacious next to the outside. Steps from the doorway stepped down into the living quarters. It was crowded, dim, and filthy. She left me standing there to go about her business. I heard hard laughter ahead, where some adult male orcs were drinking and telling wild war stories that consisted on how they got this elf or this maiden and what sport they had. My stomach turned within me. My morning sickness had died down since I'd ended up on Mordor, though I still felt very queasy. I wasn't going to be sick again at least.

Little orclings huddled quietly in the back, watching the older orcs. None of them were clinging to a mother figure. I could hear child-like laughter outside as some children played in the dusty yard.

The adults had a different way of playing. An orc grabbed the nearest woman serving the drinks and pulled her into his lap. The woman scolded him and struggled while the orc-men roared with laughter. She escaped with an indignant stomp. Laughing, the orc-man swigged down beer, fangs and lips wet with stale liquor, eyes staring with brooding lust at the orc-woman. I shuddered and drew near the back.

"Hey! Stay away from my children!" An obviously pregnant orc-woman snapped, grabbing me by the hair. She dragged me to a storeroom, pulling me roughly by the hair. She shoved me in. I stumbled over the step. "Stay in here!" She snarled. "We'll deal with you later."

She walked away, leaving the door open. I didn't move, rendered breathless by the orcs' merciless harshness. I sat down just within the step and watched the orcs. The orc-woman the man had grabbed earlier was nagging one of the older children to do something in orcish. The young orc headed toward me. He froze, red eyes widening, when he saw me in his way. Unbeaten, he carefully stepped around me as though I was a demon possessed chair. The woman screeched, "Get out of there!"

The orc-child started to obey, but the she-orc shouted, "Not you! Her! Get away from him, fan demon!"

I ran out and into the pregnant orc. She seized me by the ear and shook me. "Did I _say _you could come out? Get back in there! Go on! Get!" She gave me a shove with a hard foot. This certainly was Morhont's clan. All of the women yelling and barking orders like drivers. Morhont must've taken after his mother.

The orc-child was still getting some food from the storeroom when I returned. I sunk down breathlessly behind the step. When the nagging mother-orc saw that I had returned, she hollered, "I said get!"

The pregnant orc heard her and yelled something in orcish at her. The nagger screeched back, waving her hand toward her son. She yanked me out of the room and pushed me away. The pregnant orc grabbed me by the shirt and shoved me back at her. I struggled not to fall as they played 'Pass the Human' with me. I heard roaring laughter and carousing in the other room. The men weren't concerned; it was just another women's quarrel.

There was a loud crack of a whip. Morhont bellowed something in orcish at the two. The women only roared wordlessly at him and yammered all the louder. The driver's hand snatched at my throat. I gasped and choked as he yanked me roughly aside. He hit the nagger with the whip, yelling something. The orc-woman yelped and left in a hurry, the pregnant one following after her.

Morhont snarled, "Can't you stay where you won't be a nuisance, you fool?"

"There _isn't_—" But the orc-driver was gone.

"Wonderful," I muttered under my breath. I sat down, moving whenever the children came within two yards from me. The orc-women ignored me now. I watched them go about their business. Some of them were fixing some food or shoving some at their kids. I nearly smiled. My smile faded when Nargrish approached me.

"So, you're our little Warden lass," he commented, a cruel gleam in his green eyes. I shifted under his gaze. Somehow the light in his eyes offended more than frightened. He continued, voice dripping icicles, "How has old Gorbag been treating you?"

"Like a bag of unwanted laundry," I answered coldly, shrinking away all the same. My heart pounded in my chest. I was afraid the orc could hear it.

"Indeed?" And Nargrish left at that, a strange, knowing smirk on his face. I ground my teeth together. Of all places to get stuck, I _would_ get stuck with Morhont's clan. After a long time, I began to doze off. My leg was half-asleep beneath me, so I shifted. As I did so, I opened my eyes to see one of the female orcs coming over to me.

"Get up! Follow me," she snarled. I stood up and meekly obeyed, putting a hand on my ever-growing belly. The orc-woman stopped and turned around abruptly at the last door. I found myself only inches from eerie large eyes like lanterns radiating darkness instead of light. She cocked her head toward the room. "Get in there. You will stay in here for a few days. We will bring you food and water to drink and tend to your other needs. Your head will make a nice decoration piece if you take one step out of this room." Her voice was frosted steel in my ears.

I thanked her, hurrying in before she can force me through the doorway. I checked the room out, taking time to explore it. A lamp lit the drab room, revealing the filth of a thousand years. The bed was a hard, flat table of thick wood and a dirty blanket. I sunk down, instantly feeling light-headed, and quickly fell asleep.

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_Krank_ - Father in Orkish

_Kranklob _- Mother in Orkish.


	8. The Lord of Durthang

_Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings and I do not profit from writing this._

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_**A/N: **I finally decided it was high time I update this fic. This chapter is the shortest chapter in this story. -sigh-_

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**Chapter Eight: The Lord of Durthang**

I woke up with an inkling of dread. I shivered and burrowed deeper under the thin blanket.

My arm scrapped over splintered wood. I felt a sharp, woodsy pain. I gasped in shock and sat up with a jolt. I plucked out my third splinter that… day, I suppose. I decided orcs must have thick skin to survive the harsh conditions. I sighed and stumbled out. There was no light other than my lamp. I didn't know what time it was. I stretched with a yawn. I could barely remember I'd last had the luxury to do so. I counted on my fingers nearly four or five Mordor-days.

I smiled carefully. Only five more months before birth, before I would become a mother! My smile failed at the following thought, _then what?_ I couldn't raise a child among orcs. Perhaps there were other Outsiders stranded in Mordor. I'd have to ask Gorbag about it, if he was still around. But, no, he had his orders and I was restricted to this single room.

At a sudden thought, I knelt over my washbasin and peered into the water. I looked like a mess. Black mascara smeared on my brown, smudged cheeks. My hair was a mess of frizzes and tangles. There was no brush to fix it, nor any eye-makeup remover to deal with my mascara, but I could try. I dipped my hand and swiftly withdrew it in disgust. It was oily to the touch. I scrubbed at my face with a corner of my shirt, then looked in again, resisting the urge to gag. The mascara was only partly wiped off. I considered trying again, but decided that I shouldn't bother. At least I didn't look gothic anymore.

At that moment, the door opened and the orc who had been with the orc-nurse came in, carrying some food. His bitter black eyes flickered to me and he set the food on the ground. He stood back up, looking me up and down with searching eyes. I folded my arms over my chest, flattening my breasts as much as possible.

The orc looked at me at last. "You are a Warden?" His gravelly voice was like hissing embers. I nodded. The orc backed away with a sneer. He looked much like a leering dragon. I could almost see smoke trickling out of his mouth.

"Was your journey here with Gorbag and _Krank_ comfortable?"

"_Krank_?" I blinked at the orc.

"Father," he snarled. "My old man. Morhont."

I apologized quickly. "I don't understand your speech. The journey was…" I tried to find the word for the dark, miserable days being driven like cattle. "… Difficult."

The orc-driver's son laughed coldly. He said, "How has he been treating you?"

"Like a slave. What else is he supposed to treat me as? A queen?" I answered with strong sarcasm on my tongue.

"Well, they say you are with child," he answered with a grin of cruel amusement.

I silently went pale and took a few steps away. I yelled, "You stay away from me!"

The orc only stood there, laughing his head off. I gritted my teeth. "What's so funny?"

"You afraid of poor little me? You certainly have been hanging around _Krank_ too long. What has he said about me?" His face was dark and grim in the shadows, his black eyes narrowed to mere gashes in his face.

"He said nothing about you or the clan!" I answered, shaking with a heavy fear and despair that I didn't understand.

He saw my discomfort and gave a harsh laugh like a bark, but his voice shook slightly. He felt it, too. "It's not me you're afraid of. The lord of this hold is returning from a little trip. He should be here any minute. He's likely to come and ask you questions, so just sit quietly like a good girl and listen to good Haglúk."

Haglúk left at a crouch, snickering under his breath. I grimaced and stood up, shaking. I heard the sound of a horse. A piercing shriek pierced the air. I shivered and hid into the corner of my room, huddling with my arms wrapped around my round abdomen. I heard the yammering of harsh orc-voices, then a soft, hissing voice spoke_. _It was the Ringwraith I remembered as the "Shire, Baggins," wraith. In the past, his hissing had been nearly funny, but not in reality. _He_ was lord of Durthang.

Gorbag and three other orcs entered. I recognized Nargrish's leering smirk; Morhont, I knew already, but the third was a great, hairy uruk with black skin and burning red eyes. Gorbag introduced him as Captain Ufghâsh of Durthang. The orc captain of Durthang snarled at me in sour cheer, flashing white fangs. "Welcome, my dear Warden. I hope you have been comfortable during your stay," he said in feigned politeness.

"Silence, you fool," the Ringwraith hissed from outside the door. I whimpered when the tall, foul Nazgûl stepped in. He asked me, "How did you enter Arda?"

The words came out in a shaky breath. "UCSW. An accident."

"Do you _like_ Mordor? What about the orcs? Do any of them… attract you?"

"N-no… No, sir. I'm… I'm not a fan of _Lor_— Arda. I don't care much for elves or orcs," I answered in a pathetic attempt to sound firm. My voice wouldn't obey my wishes.

The Nazgûl towered over me. "Feeling proud? Think you can handle the enemy single-handedly? How do you feel?"

"How do I feel?" I trembled, tears of fear and frustration streaming down my cheeks. "I feel helpless, lost, and scared to death. Why are you asking it of me? I told you how I came here."

The Ringwraith answered in a slow hiss, "Death comes in the form of innocence. Do not test me. What do you know about Arda? For I perceive this isn't the first time you've seen me, though our paths have never crossed before."

I closed my mouth, remembering what Gorbag had said. The undead king repeated, "Do you know anything about Arda?"

I answered reluctantly, "I… I know enough."

"Do you know the future of anyone in here?"

I looked from him to Gorbag and the three orcs. Gorbag I knew would be slain by Sam within the highest chamber in the tower of Cirith Ungol. Morhont would run into the hobbits when driving armored slaves to the gates, not far from Cirith Ungol. He had likely died along with the other Durthang orcs at the downfall of Sauron in the movie, if not before. "I know enough."

The shadow deepened. "Tell me, what is my future?"

I didn't answer. There was a long silence. The Nazgûl hissed. "You have done well, Outsider. Take her to Midway." The word sounded strange spoken by an evil undead Ringwraith. In my mind, the word Midway brought images of old World War II movies and history class.

The heavy shadow left the room. I sunk down on the bed, shaking. It took a second for me to realize my legs were strangely wet. Gorbag reached over to pull me up by the shoulder. I jerked away and asked nervously, "Can I have another pair of pants?"


	9. Midway

_Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings and I do not profit from writing this._

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**Chapter Nine: Midway**

Fully dried and changed, I put aside my wet blue jeans reluctantly. It would be just orc-wear from now on. According to Gorbag, they had to be burned. He stood waiting behind me. It had been uncomfortable stripping with the orc nearby, but now it was over. I turned around to him. He quickly looked up from staring down at my bare bottom. I gave him a look of disgust. "Why don't you go stare at some orc-women?"

His lips twitched in an unfriendly smirk. His snake-like voice hissed. "And miss your discomfort when I look over your body? I don't think so. Now come on!" He hurried out, back hunched down low.

I grumbled under my breath about perverted minds and hurried after him, stopping to grab the food Haglúk had dropped off. I pocketed most of it, then ran after the orc captain. The orc dashed out of the hut and up into the gates. He halted and peered up at the gates. I reached his side, panting already at the effort of keeping up. I turned to him to speak, but the gates swung open and he jolted forward like a racer at the opening shot.

I leapt after him. He hurried up the stairwell of the castle. I stumbled after him, a pinching sensation just forming in my side. Dimly I remembered the horrible chase through Minas Morgul. It seemed so long ago. Orcs, mostly soldiers, hurried about shouting orders, carrying them out, or standing around talking in orcish undertones.

"What… what's going on?" I asked, my words gasped out. But nobody answered. Gorbag halted before a doorway, guarded by two great uruks. I stopped to catch my breath. He snarled impatiently. "Get going! What're you waiting for?"

"Just… a sec. What about… you?" I wheezed out.

He gave a mocking laugh. "Orcs aren't allowed. Do you think your world itself can't be affected as ours can be? And I've more important things to do. Something's happened and I'm needed to see it through."

I didn't reply. He vanished back the way we came, leaving me alone. I took a deep breath and stepped through.

The first things I noticed were the bright electric light and one large clear table of heavy plastic or some other substance. This wasn't Durthang. Or even Mordor, for that matter. I looked around the room. Technological. Closed off except for the back of the room. It looked like Nowhere, if Nowhere was a place. This must be Midway, someplace between Mordor and Earth. But didn't that mean it was the Rift? The back was a balcony above a small gash like a road through the stars below. I knew what I saw. The Rift itself was a thin black thread, reeking of terror and sorrow, then pulsing red as though on fire. On the balcony sat a weary man with a gray beard and short, sparse hair in a rotating chair. He sat watching and clicking buttons on his dashboard silently. So Midway was a watchtower over the Rift?

I recalled Gorbag's words. _They'd do anything to close it, but it's too late for that now._ Yet they had damaged the Rift just the same. It was just enough to make it twice as dangerous for people to go through, though only in the journey back to Earth. I guessed it was to protect Earth from being destroyed by people wandering from the Inner Worlds. Dismayed, I wrapped my arms around myself. "Mark."

The man said softly, "A new vagrant."

"What?"

"Come here."

I didn't respond. No way was I going up to a strange man. "Who are you?"

"Chief Executive Alban Graystone for Midway. I'm sorry for not greeting you sooner, but I have to keep watch for intruders. Where are you?"

"I'm here. Where else would I be?"

"What world?"

"Middle-Earth, sir," I answered meekly. "Mordor."

"I'll see you from the Dark Tower soon then." He fell silent, then said suddenly, "I'm sorry, you're pregnant, aren't you?" He stared nearly unseeingly into outer space. Starlight caught in his solemn blue eyes. His thin wrinkled skin looked molded by time.

"Yes," I said softly.

"Then be careful. What time in Middle-Earth are you at?"

"I don't know. It seems not too far from the time of _The Lord of the Rings, _but I'm not sure."

The man nodded inattentively. "Tell me what's going on there right now."

"Not much. Gorbag is captain at Minas Morgul; Morhont's an orc-driver at Durthang… I don't know anything else. The Ring hasn't been found yet, but Sauron is at Barad-dûr."

The chief executive said slowly, "Gorbag is it? How does he look?"

"Just like in the movies. Well, a little better, but not much."

"Okay. Come over here and tell me which of these Gorbags you know."

I stepped over cautiously and peered over his shoulder. Pictures of Gorbag at every age after becoming captain flickered one by one over the screen. I stopped him suddenly. "He looks like that."

"Okay. I'll see you…" He peered down at the dashboard as though looking at something carefully. "Right now, for you, the year is 3015, so I'll see you at the end of all things, Third Age 3018. Bring me this when you return." And he handed me something in the shape of a silver dollar. On it was some numbers and the picture of a key.

I thanked him and hurried off to leave. I had no sooner set my hand on the door than it banged open and a filthy woman in tattered garments and a tangled mess of hair ran into me, gasping for breath. Her brown brow was drenched with sweat and blood above her wild dark eyes. She pushed me aside and three other people stumbled in, one holding a dark baby with brown eyes rimmed with faint red. I caught a glimpse of fire, darkness, and crumbling stones before the door slammed shut.

"We made it!" She sobbed out.

One of the three humans hushed her. "It's not over yet."

She slowly nodded and turned to the chief executive. "Alban! Thank goodness you are still here. I'm sorry, we didn't know about the book. I'm so sorry," she said, between gulps for air. "Morhont had my token; I didn't get it back when they got him. I should've came here before the Ring came to Mordor."

Graystone nodded. His voice sounded tense, even though he stared with the same distracted gaze as before. "But you _have_ come. You know where the door is."

The woman thanked him. She saw me for the first time. Her eyes widened and she shook her head. "No, I have spoken too much. Knowledge is poison in the Rift. You know that. Or rather you will. You will."

With that she fled with the others toward the smooth wall. The wall rippled like water around them, then they were gone. I stared after them. What had just happened? They'd mentioned the Ring, the orc-driver, and Mordor. Well, that was their adventure in Mordor, not mine, obviously. As long as things went the way they went as seen in the real world, nothing was permanent, was it?

"Go," the old man murmured softly to me. "You have seen enough."


	10. Fanboy & Demolisher

_Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings and I do not profit from writing this.

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**Chapter Ten: Fanboy & Demolisher **

When I came back, everything was quiet. Too quiet, considering the noise the orcs had made when I first went in. The dim hallways were void of life. Pieces of cloth and old rotten pieces of food lay about, strange flies with a small red mark on their heads gathering about them

I called out, "Gorbag?" Silence. I shifted my feet and waited. A longer silence. "Gorbag?"

Feeling very cumbersome with my big belly, I went down the stair well, pausing now and then to listen. I heard a rush of white noise as though from a great crowd. I hurried in its direction. Apparently, they had just captured something. Gollum maybe?

A young man of about fifteen had been seized by two great uruks, his clothes obviously from the Earth. He fought and screamed, but seemed to already know where he was and was partly enraptured in joy. Ufghâsh snarled at him, "Who are you?"

"G-Greg Rodney! Are you… Shagrat?"

I heard a displeased hiss from the sidelines. It was Gorbag. I slipped over to his side carefully. "What's going on?"

"I don't know, but I don't think that's a Warden. I don't even think it's a vagrant."

"A vagrant?"

"Either a fan who didn't end up where he wanted or a Warden who didn't end up in the right place. We don't send them back usually as long as they know next to nothing about this world and learn the basics quickly. If they are a fan, we never send them back. Too dangerous. We can't complain, though the Rift leaves a distinct taste on manflesh." And a dark tongue scrapped across rotten teeth.

I shuddered, partly for his indications and partly for what that left this young man as. "A fan?" I whispered.

Gorbag's lips curled in a snarl in reply. "As soon as we get proof, we can kill him."

The Nazgûl was probing Rodney. The boy cried out, "I am a Maia! Unhand me!"

"A Maia? Indeed? For what?" Hissed the Ringwraith.

Rodney stammered, "I know everything. I know where the Ring is." And he held up a thick volume of _The Lord of the Rings._ His voice came clear. "This book contains your entire future! You must beli—"

With a jerk, the Nazgûl snapped his neck. The dead fan slumped over, dropping the book. The orcs pounced on the body. I turned away, gagging. A page corner caught my eye. Gorbag took a step toward the body, but I said, "The book!"

"Haglúk'll take care of it," Morhont rasped from behind us. "We better get moving."

I shook my head. "But I thought we were going to stay here for a while!"

"When did I ever say that?" The driver was right, of course. He had said nothing about staying. "Wasn't a two-days sleep good enough for you?"

I inhaled sharply. "I-I slept that long?" The orc-drug must've been more potent than I thought. Morhont glared at me. I swallowed down my disappointment and said, "All right! Let's go."

We rejoined the line of slaves. Morhont gave a yell. We made our way down the treacherous mountainside, then down onto a narrow strip of road. There was a sheer drop on one side of the road, and the mountains provided an impassible wall. The slaves had to go in twos and threes. The slave-driver shouted for them to pick up the pace, threatening them with his whip. I watched him run up and down the lines, looking for straggling orcs. The slaves marched on. I could hear nothing but the orcs. I rubbed my sore temples, feeling a headache come on.

My foot struck a stone and I fell. Gorbag seized my shirt and yanked me up. "Already tiring?"

I glared at him, stopping momentarily. "I'm fine."

The Morgul-orc sneered at me. Morhont shouted, "Enough, you two! Get moving!"

The hours dragged out for eons as we continued on our journey. There was no cisterns or orc-holds we could stop at. Every step was jarring and the pace was rough. I found myself hoping Morhont would call for a halt soon, but he didn't. My breath seemed not to even leave my mouth, running up and down my throat and gushing against my teeth fruitlessly. _Let it end. Dear God, let it end!_

Morhont abruptly stopped, holding his whip out in front of the fore-slaves wordlessly. He slowly crouched into the shadows. The first line of slaves halted and did the same. Even before they could make a move, the rest of the slaves dropped, slunk into the shadows, or curled up in tight balls, slipping camouflaging covers over themselves and choking their torches. It was then that I heard the barely audible whisper, like the wind sucking in a deep breath. Gorbag quickly dived to the ground. I remained standing, puzzled. The sound deepened to a low, purely mechanic purr. Gorbag grabbed my leg. I stifled a cry. He hissed, "Quiet. Get down, you fool!"

I obeyed, slowly sinking down as Morhont and the fore-orcs had done. None too soon.

A narrow slit of glittering red slowly turned toward the road like a seeing visor. I stared at it, then Gorbag grabbed me by the back of my head and slammed my head into the road. I kept my head down, even when bright light flashed across the road. The Morgul-orc was trembling as though afraid. A loud explosion erupted just in front of where the orcs began, then another a hundred yards behind me. If they were to terrify, they were doing a good job. I whimpered into the cool earth and shut my eyes tightly. My infant rolled over in my womb. There was a moment of silence, then the lights moved off of us.

We stayed down for a frightening moment, breathing as quietly as we could. Presently, someone shook my shoulder. Morhont whispered, "All clear. Quietly now; we don't want one of those on us. Good thing there was only one of them."

I asked, "What was that?"

"Hush! A Demolisher."

"Demolisher?"

"Machines built to aid the destruction of worlds," Gorbag growled, standing up carefully. I stumbled up, refusing his merciless aid. "Long ago, when the Rift was first found to be a danger, some of the surviving victims hid inside Midway, believing only destroying the inner-worlds can close the Rift. They care nothing about Wardens and safekeeping of the Rift. They will kill us all if they find us."

The driver cast a nervous glance to the still smoking crater of broken stone. "Let's get out of here. We'll make way back to Durthang, then find another way around."

"That'll take too long. What makes you think it isn't heading to Durthang? We'll be walking straight into it," Gorbag rasped through his teeth.

"You can go on, but we're going back. It's too dangerous, and that scout didn't go toward Durthang. It went that way." The driver pointed his arm toward the valley. "_Toward_ the valley. That's where you wanted to go, isn't it? To get to Lugbúrz?"

Gorbag didn't answer. I said, shakily, "Perhaps we should go back too?"

"No! Go on and warn about them. Just leave us out of it."

"Morhont, you're coming with us," Gorbag's voice was soft with just a touch of a threat. "We had a deal."

"Did the deal include getting blasted by Demolishers and pulled apart by RGPs?"

The Morgul-orc didn't answer. Morhont exhaled. "Fine then. But if we come upon any more of those things, I'm leaving. My slaves are wanted alive and well."

Gorbag gave the black-eyed orc a look of disgust. "Of course. Let's move before any more of them come our way."

A shiver ran up my spine in agreement. Smoke billowed up before us from the explosion. A few slaves went first to be sure of the ground; then the rest of us went through, followed by Gorbag and Morhont.

Day, or what passed as day, had returned for the second time when at last we stopped at the crossroads. As soon as we sat down, Gorbag asked Morhont, "How much farther do we have to go?"

The driver took a swig from his flask. "A two-day's run, by my reckoning."

Gorbag grunted. "We'll have to double our pace."

"My slugs can manage if they have the mind to. They fear my whip almost as much as those things, or should. What about the Warden?"

I reluctantly answered, "I'll… manage."

My orc-guardian leered at me. "Good. Morhont, we'll refresh ourselves here before moving on."

"Our supplies are running low," the driver answered gruffly. "Most was left when the Demolisher came. We'll rest, but we'll have to be sparing on water and food."

Morhont and Gorbag decided to watch in shifts as the slaves and I slept. I blinked bleary eyes at the orc figures stumbling around me. The ex-captain was already asleep, black eyes staring emptily into space. Not far from him, Gorbag stooped to the ground, listening to the earth. I saw no more.

I came to hearing dull thunder and feeling metal grating my cheek. I blinked open gritty eyes. I jerked my head up. I'd snuggled up to one of the slaves during the night. I quickly gave him space before he could awake. There was a faint purring sound to the north. A red beam of light flared over the stony peaks not far away. It was followed closely by two more in war formation. I hurried over to Gorbag and Morhont. The orc-driver was on shift now, but he was staring toward the south. "Morhont! Demolishers!" I pointed toward the wall of stone.

He hissed through his teeth sharply. He was up in no time. "Get up! All of you get up! Demolishers!" He kicked the slaves nearest him and jumped over them to the next group of slaves. Gorbag leapt onto his feet and clutched his scimitar. A narrow visor of red light appeared. Chaos ensued, orcs running about in a panic. Morhont cursed and ran, applying the whip to what slaves he could seize and put back in line.

The machines detected the panic below them and swung down the mountain. They were shaped much like jets, only mechanical tentacles dropped beneath their streamline bodies, each tipped with a giant claw. They had no wings. Their noses were narrow spikes and their vertical tails were shaped like that of an enormous shark. Four heavy guns, two on each side, studded their backs. They looked like a very bad twist between a commercial jet and the sentinels from _The Matrix._

They charged down upon us. Morhont and the slaves who had been beaten into their senses ran aside, vanishing into the darkness. Gorbag grabbed my arm and ran toward the gathering of orcs. Light flared, revealing the slaves still in the opening, then the earth was pelted with a rapid round of fire. An orc fell where we had been moments before. The machines rounded the slaves outside of our small band up and began to slaughter them systematically. The third Demolisher dropped a dozen smaller machines. The smaller machines were round with four short limb-like appendages. They reminded me of pigs' bellies. Between each appendage was a short claw. There was a hole at the bottom of them. They slung low and began to scan the earth near us.

Gorbag hissed, "_Urk! _Scouts!"

The scouts were still busy a little ways from us, but closing in. Morhont prodded the slaves gathered behind him. We crawled away as fast as we dared. I heard a low thrumming above my head. We froze. The slave right in front of me was quivering with fear. Gorbag was busy swallowing. I carefully cast an eye up. Another scout darted above us. Morhont cursed and stood up. A siren blared and the third Demolisher turned straight toward us and fired. Gorbag shouted, "Run! Run for your miserable lives!"

We all stumbled up and ran for it. A group of slaves among us fell, struck by shrapnel from the blasts, then another, then another. An orc was thrown screaming from a blast into Morhont, knocking the driver off his feet. The driver was struggling to escape the dead body when we swept past him. There was a blast just a few yards away from me and Gorbag. He quickly yanked me toward the crater and we dropped down inside. It was hot and my skin burned whenever I touched a glowing ember. There were many embers. We watched through the smoke as the Demolisher bore down on the last of the orcs. There was a strange silence, then the machine swung up and flew back to rejoin the other two Demolishers.

Gorbag whispered, "Stay here." He slipped out through veil of smoke. He returned quickly. "They're gone. Come on."

We stepped out and I looked about in dismay. The battleground was lit by fire, revealing the terrible remains of the slave-drive. Dead orcs were strewn about, or pieces of them. Some hands were stiffly reaching out like claws from craters, but there was no body. "We better look for any survivors," Gorbag said needlessly.

We found only three slaves still alive. One lay screaming with a missing leg. The other two were dying. It was only after they had shifted with a groan into the afterlife that we found the orc-driver. Morhont seemed for the most part unhurt, except for being shaken up and exhausted. He was still pinned by the dead body, having lost consciousness sometime during the massacre. He lifted his head and I saw then that he had a bloody gash down the left side of his face. It was oozing black blood.

We helped him out and returned to the last slave. Gorbag growled, nearly absently, "We'll have to double our efforts to reach Lugbúrz alive. We can't afford another breather after what happened."

"What about him?" I nodded toward the wounded orc.

The orc-driver snarled not far away, "I'll take care of him." He walked over to the wounded orc. The orc shrank away with a fearful hiss, eyes wide. He was yammering frantically in orcish. "_Nar! Nar! Nar!"_ Morhont moved swift as a snake in a single motion. The wounded orc only had time for a brief grunt of pain. His head lolled aside and his breathing ceased. The orc-driver yanked out his knife. "A one-legged slave is worthless." He straightened and returned to his duties.

I gaped in horror at the dead body, alive seconds before. Gorbag pulled me away. "Come on! You don't want Morhont to come at you with a whip."

"Go on with out me," I said in a daze. "I'm going to be sick."

"He did what he had to, Joanne. I suggest you do the same," Gorbag said coldly. I shook my head, gagging. I collapsed to my knees and emptied my stomach on the ground. I gulped air, tears streaming down my face. I got on my feet shakily. A sharp pain shot through my ribs. I let out a gasp. I mumbled, emotionally drained, "I'm hurt."

Gorbag looked with an irritated scowl. I flinched as his clawed fingers proded my injured side roughly. He snorted in disdain. "It's just a bruise. Nothing serious. Now come on!"

The three of us ran as though pursued. For all we knew, we were.


	11. Slavedriver's Son

_Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings and I do not profit from writing this._

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_**A/N:** Warning: POV shift.  
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**Chapter Eleven: Slave-driver's Son**

_Universal Year 09_  
_Middle-Earth, November 17-20, year 3015 of the 3rd Age_  
_Earth year A.D 2005_

The orcs at Durthang first spotted the bold thread of slaves marching across the landscape as Mordor-dawn deepened into a crimson red. Haglúk gave a snarl of contempt as he watched the dark band sweeping up the treacherous road. No one gave him a glance. Except for one red-eyed orc-woman with a flat nose and piercings in the right corner of her lip. Her eyes snapped to him and her lips curled in a snarl. Khatlob was, at the moment, Morhont's favorite mistress and was due to give birth to his… well, due to give birth to the newest addition to the driver's branch of the clan. Orclets were a pain to birth, or even carry, if they got fussy enough. She hissed, "Stone-licker."

Haglúk laughed at her. The watchers acknowledged the approaching orcs and the gates rolled open. The slaves slipped through, but not before he saw Sleeping Filth. She was a pathetic little thing with a rounded stomach held by two strong slaves. Her dark brown hair was in snags against her drawn cheeks. Her light brown skin was smeared with dirt and something black had leaked under her bagging eyes in tear streaks, as though she cried orc-blood. In human standards she was pretty. Not quite beautiful or sensual, but pretty. Why the slaves were carrying a human was beyond the orc-driver's son. If she was a slave, Morhont should've whipped her to death. If she was a captive, she should've been taken straight to Lugbúrz. Perhaps it was another vagrant.

Whatever Morhont's reasons for dragging the creature here, Haglúk didn't appreciate his unexpected reappearance. He'd long bested the old fool who had given himself the name of Morhont after the disaster at Redhorn out of humiliation and cowardice. Haglúk really wasn't that much younger than his father, only half a hundred years, and that was old enough for him to remember his father as Captain Gûlthak, Wraith-face, perfectly. He hadn't been there at the fight where two elvish warriors wrenched the she-elf from the elite band Morhont's men were supposed to be protecting. Morhont's men had fled and he'd given chase. There had been a hundred men left by the earlier fights and a hundred of them had been executed on the spot, and Morhont had been stripped his rank. He'd also had changed his name around that same time.

Haglúk had long wished his father had been executed instead of getting off so easily. Why they _hadn't_ killed him and plainly forgot about him was a mystery. Perhaps it was because of the sudden boost of slaves the orcs had gone through that year. There had been few enough overseers and orc-drivers to tend to the _snaga_.

Morhont's branch of the clan was gathered outside. The branch was lead by nine mature orcs who had lived beyond four hundred years. Other than the two alpha orcs, they were five females and the two males, not counting Morhont himself, the third and last of the three orc-men, who shared them. Another band of adult orcs stood in a militaristic line. The eldest had the green-yellow eyes of the high clan-leader. Haglúk was the second eldest. Miniature orcs, at least three dozen, stood tucked safely behind them, peeking out from behind the taller orcs' legs. Some of them had Morhont's eyes and a few, while taking after him in other ways, had the eyes of the women standing there.

There was no motion without the city after the slaves had been driven in for a time and Haglúk began to grow impatient as he waited for them to greet the driver. After a time, Morhont's familiar, stooped figure strode out, whip clutched in a hard fist. Alpha female Ghâshlob stepped forward. She was a grisly creature with dark fuzz atop a sallow head. Yellow eyes like two lamps narrowed to slits. She greeted him coolly, "Morhont."

The driver growled, tolerantly enough. "Ghâshlob." He turned his head slightly and greeted Nargrish in the same manner. Nargrish only flashed his hideously sharp fangs at the other orc. Haglúk watched this coldly from the sidelines. At that moment though, Morhont turned to him, looking _up_ a little. "Haglúk," Morhont coldly acknowledged his firstborn, then turned away. Haglúk snarled at him behind his back, but Morhont didn't see. He wouldn't have wondered even if he had. Orcs tolerated their kinfolk only to a certain extent.

Khatlob and the other four orc-women prodded the orclets forward. They stumbled out from the midst of their mothers. The foremost one found himself right in front of the driver. He gave a nervous gurgle in the back of his throat. Morhont only looked the young orcs over with a critical eye. "They've grown strong," he commented, gruffly. He turned to the other two males. "You've done well."

They nodded and thanked him stiffly, turning away to engross themselves in other small talk. Nargrish asked at that moment, "What was that about? That brat?"

"A vagrant." Morhont snarled, turning his head slightly toward the orc-hold. His face caught the glint from the torches, but his eyes only caught a splinter of light. "A _Warden_ vagrant. We're taking her to Lugbúrz."

"Why Lugbúrz?"

"Midway set their gate there. Though what good that'll do, I don't know."

"How's that?" Bold yellow-green burned against black. Haglúk listened carefully, his interest piqued.

"She's with child." A hint of malicious pleasure touched Morhont's voice. Haglúk narrowed his eyes at the older orc. What was so important about a Warden being pregnant? An orc-woman would be quickly bedded after giving birth. Perhaps Gorbag or Morhont were hoping to have some fun. The idea surprised Haglúk. Gorbag, he could nearly see, but Morhont thought more about doing his job and how to find a way to win back his old rank. Though why that should make her stay in Mordor he didn't know.

He couldn't resist trying his father. He interrupted the banter. "She came here with you, _and_ with child? No wonder the dear little child was a bit pale when we saw her." His voice dripped mocking sarcasm.

Morhont turned to him with a look of contempt that mirrored Haglúk's own. "It was mostly Gorbag's doing. He's the one the Shriekers put her under. I've only to make sure they reach Lugbúrz in good shape."

Haglúk pretended to admire his claws, glancing over at the other orc in thoughtful consideration of how he would look minus eyes, plus bloody scoring across the face. "Wasn't Gorbag the one who mentioned he worried about the coming war?"

Morhont hushed him loudly. The orcs stopped and looked at him nervously. Morhont stiffened. He said to the other orcs, "Get lost."

They obeyed in a hurry. The driver said, "It's none of our business. The enemy is weaker than us, hardly strong enough to worry about. When we are ready, there won't be much of a war to fight. They could never stand against us. You fret yourself too much over what doesn't concern you or me."

"Better than fleeing in cowardice when the slightest thing goes wrong," Haglúk snapped. The slave-driver glowered at him, holding his son's malevolent gaze for a moment, then nodded toward Lugbúrz. "He knows what He's doing. We can't lose this war. It's impossible."

Haglúk grunted. "We'll see."

They held each other's gaze until Haglúk stalked back into the hut. Impossible to lose to Gondor? Morhont assumed too much. Haglúk allowed himself a snort of disgust.

The next days passed without consequence. The pathetic human had been drugged upon waking up and had taken better than expected to it. She hadn't stirred for nearly three days. Haglúk asked the midwife if he could see the creature when she checked on her.

The Warden was stirring when he arrived. She blinked open her dark brown eyes blearily. She saw him and the midwife and frowned. As soon as she began to grow more aware, the midwife reached down and seized her arm, yanking her to her feet. The girl cried out. Haglúk laughed in appreciation of the sport. The midwife snarled, "Silence! You are in one piece. Are you happy? Now get!"

She gave the vagrant a vicious kick in the calf and the girl stumbled out of the room. Haglúk laughed, but the orc-woman turned to him and growled, "Get lost!"

Haglúk wisely hurried before she could give him the same treatment. He returned to the hut and ate. He could hear the laughter and angry shouts of children through the wall. Finally their laughter and shouts gave way to crying. An older voice snarled at them, muffled through the old stones, then all noise died away. Some of the younger males began to get rowdy and loose with the ale. It didn't take long for the older ones to catch it. There came a bellow from outside. It was Morhont, yelling for Nargrish and Ghâshlob. The two orcs left to see what he wanted reluctantly. Haglúk was more interested in eyeing the women who were busy serving them.

One of lesser adults pulled the woman nearest him and pulled her into his lap. The woman scolded and struggled as he held her to him. Haglúk and the other men laughed. She escaped in a huff and the man swigged down his beer, eyes fingering the orc-woman's figure.

Suddenly Haglúk heard Khatlob snap, "Stay away from my children!"

He looked over to see the pregnant Khatlob dragging the brown Warden woman standing near the back with the children by the hair toward a storeroom. The orc-woman shoved the brat in. The vagrant Warden stumbled over the step. Haglúk chuckled at her lost expression. Khatlob snarled, "Stay in her! We'll deal with you later."

She walked away. The young Warden didn't move, breathing hard, then sat down within the step and watched the orcs. Haglúk heard the same orc-woman who had been seized by Urkghâsh nagging one of her older orclets to retrieve some more food and ale from the storeroom. The orclet headed for the storeroom, but froze when he saw the Warden in his path. Determined to ignore her, he cautiously began to step around her. Haglúk watched intently. This should be interesting. Sure enough, the mother screeched, "Get out of here!"

The orclet moved to make a quick exit, but his mother shouted, "Not you! Her! Get away from him, fan-demon!" Haglúk wondered how Nargrish would like to know how dumb some of his women were. They wouldn't have left a fan alive for them to take care of.

The Warden ran out, straight into Khatlob. The orc-woman seized her ear and shook her. "Did I say you could come out? Get back in there! Go on! Get!" She shoved the hapless young woman with a hard foot. The orclet was still getting stuff from the storeroom when she returned. Haglúk watched in growing amusement as she sunk down in a panting mass against the step. The nagging orc-mother saw her and hollered, "I said get!"

Khatlob heard her and yelled, "Shut up! She's staying right there!"

The nagger shouted, waving her hand toward her son, "She's in the way!"

She yanked the brown girl out and pushed her at Khatlob, but the pregnant orc only shoved her back. The human struggled not to fall as they fought. Haglúk laughed harder, but he was drowned out by the other orcs. Suddenly the loud crack of a whip broke through the fight. "Stop it, you two!" Morhont barked in orcish. The two women only roared at him and yammered all the louder, voices rising to a frantic pitch. The driver yanked the girl roughly aside by the throat. The girl gasped and choked. Morhont lashed out at the nagging orc-woman. "Get!"

The woman yelped and hurried away, followed by Khatlob.

Morhont snarled to the Warden lass, "Can't you stay where you won't be a nuisance, you fool?"

The girl protested, "There _isn't_—" But Morhont had already left. She muttered something under her breath and sat down. Haglúk watched for more entertainment, but she'd gotten smarter, moving whenever the children came near. The orc-women ignored her. However, Nargrish soon noticed her and approached her. Haglúk watched, but most of the words were drowned out. The girl shifted in annoyance. She said something in a tone drenched in ice, then the old orc walked away. The girl clenched her teeth in irritation.

Nothing more happened, so Haglúk went on with his business.

Later a half-sister led the Warden to her quarters. As luck would have it, Haglúk was chosen to bring her breakfast. When he came in, the following night, she was kneeling over her washbasin. She looked up nervously and watched him. Haglúk set the food on the ground, just within the room, and looked up and down her body. The girl folded her arms across her chest protectively.

Haglúk looked back to her. "You are a Warden?" She nodded. He backed away with a sneer. The girl shuddered

Haglúk asked, mockingly, "Was your journey here with Gorbag and _Krank_ comfortable?"

"_Krank_?"

Were Wardens normally this stupid? "Father! My old man. Morhont."

She apologized quickly. "I'm sorry. I… don't understand your speech. The journey was…" It took a moment for her to find the right word. "… Difficult."

The orc-driver's son laughed coldly. He said, "How has he been treating you?"

"Like a slave. What else is he supposed to treat me as? A queen?" She answered with strong sarcasm. Haglúk shook with silent laughter.

"Well, they say you are with child." He grinned at her. She went pale and stepped back, crying out, "You stay away from me!"

Haglúk couldn't hold it in anymore; he had to laugh. The girl gritted her teeth. "What's so funny?"

"You afraid of poor little me? You certainly have been hanging around _Krank_ too long." Sudden suspicion filled him. He narrowed his eyes at the young woman. "What has he said about me?"

"He said nothing about you or the clan!" She answered, shaking strangely.

Haglúk saw her discomfort and gave a harsh laugh like a bark, but his voice shook slightly. He felt it, too. The Lord of Durthang was returning from Lugbúrz. Haglúk could never forget the touch of his presence. "It's not me you're afraid of. The lord of this hold is returning from a little trip. He should be here any minute. He's likely to come and ask you questions, so just sit quietly like a good girl. Listen to good Haglúk."

With that he left at a crouch, snickering as he dodged toward the far end of the hut. The Nazgûl wouldn't go there. A terrible Nazgûl shriek cleaved through the stones. A tall dark shadow slipped quietly through the hut to the room, followed by three orcs. The orcs went in first, then the Nazgûl. They were interrogating the girl, painlessly. A few minutes later, the wraith glided out of the room. Haglúk shuddered as the Nazgûl gave a parting glance in his direction. Morhont and Ufghâsh left the room.

Haglúk stared coldly at the orc-driver. Morhont headed over to him. Haglúk saw the girl chase Gorbag out of the hut. "What're they doing?"

"Gorbag's leading her to Midway." The slave-driver shrugged in dismissal.

Haglúk coughed. "Indeed?"

Morhont shifted, setting his jaw for a harsh retort, but at that moment there came a loud shriek from the Nazgûl and angry roars from outside. The two orcs went outside and saw orcs streaming out of the orc-hold to give chase to a strange boy dressed in Outsider garments running from Ufghâsh. Ufghâsh grabbed the boy and the orcs struggled to subdue him. The Outsider screamed in terror, but Haglúk thought he saw an ecstatic light in his eyes.

Ufghâsh snarled at him, "Who are you?"

"G-Greg Rodney! Are you… Shagrat?"

Gorbag hissed his displeasure from the sidelines. The Warden, who was looking thoughtfully at the new Outsider, soon joined him. They muttered together, watching the Outsider carefully. Gorbag flicked his tongue across his teeth and the girl shuddered. She said something and Gorbag snarled.

Meanwhile, the Nazgûl probed Rodney. The boy cried out, "I am a Maia! Unhand me!"

"A Maia? Indeed? For what?" Hissed the Ringwraith.

Rodney stammered, "I know everything. I know where the Ring is." And he held up something thick and made of papers_._ Haglúk started. The Warden gave a gasp from the side. The boy's voice came clear. "This book contains your entire future! You must believe me. The Ring is in—"

With a jerk, the Nazgûl snapped his neck. The dead fan slumped over, dropping the book. The orcs pounced on the body and the girl gagged as she watched them devour the body. Any other time, Haglúk would've dove right in with them, but the strange square object the boy had said contained their future drew him. Gorbag took a step toward the body, but the girl cried, "The book!"

"Haglúk'll take care of it," Morhont growled. "We better get moving."

Haglúk took the chance and seized the book, hiding the feeling of elation he felt in holding it. He forced it down. As soon as he turned his back on the other orcs, he opened the book and bitter disappointment took him. It was in an unknown tongue. In any case, it was too dangerous to keep. He darted into the hut to burn it.

He held it over the fire pit and hesitated. What if it did contain their future? Did it say anything about the war? _When we are ready, there won't be much of a war to fight. They could never stand against us. You fret yourself too much over what doesn't concern you or me. _Haglúk growled under his breath, "You'll see, you fool."

He slipped his hand back down to his side, book in hand. He jumped at the sound of voices not far away. He hurried on toward the back of the hut, keeping low. A cool, wet drizzle had lightly dampened the weatherworn stones, dripping into cracks to feed a thin line of black prickly moss that flowed down like blood on the slanting stones in back. The last stones were loose, loose enough to move. The gaping hole left by the stones was possibly wide enough for an _uruk_ to squirm through. Haglúk had found it himself and had taken careful measures to make sure he was the only one who knew about it.

He pushed the highest stone, allowing it to slide onto the bottom one, and worked on down and forward, until he could climb through just next to the mountain wall. It was a little darker outside than inside, where there was dim torchlight, but light enough for any orc to see. He kept low, and slipped the book under a small crack in the mountain face, then slipped back inside, heart racing in his wild joy. Now if only he could find someone to translate it, he would show his father who was the greater of them.

Haglúk laughed out loud in glee. He had the knowledge of the future of Middle-Earth in his grasp.


	12. Valley of Terror

_Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings and I do not profit from writing this._

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_**A/N:** POV back to Joanne.

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**Chapter Twelve: Valley of Terror**

The valley of Gorgoroth was much like in the movie. Dry, rocky, and with a harsh breeze that sucked moisture from our lips. However, it was much darker, with only a faint glow from the sky lighting it. In the distance, Mount Doom stood silent as though dormant. I tripped on my own feet once, bruising two toes, but both Gorbag and Morhont grabbed me, one pushing me from behind and the other seizing my hair, and dragged me for some distance.

I struggled for air, tears springing from my eyes. My burns were irritated by the dusty wind and my legs were screaming for me to stop. The orcs ran on. I faltered and felt my hair tear. After some time, I got my second wind and did much better for a time. The darkness deepened so I could hardly see the outline of the two orcs on either side of me. Quite suddenly they halted. My hair fell loose against my neck and I heard a dull thud to my left. I looked up, fearing to see the red slit in the sky. There was nothing.

One of the orcs pushed me aside. I slipped into a shallow pit with a scream. Gorbag growled from above me. "Quiet!"

I lay where I'd landed, shivering and gasping air down my parched throat. I could hear Morhont muttering curses and obscenities under his breath nearby. Gorbag leapt down to join us. The Morgul-orc landed on uneven ground and stumbled with a curse. A hand seized me by the hair and someone forced me to swallow foul water. I slept

I dreamed of running through sticky darkness, shadows clinging to me like tar. The sky was black with the extremists' Demolishers. When I opened my eyes, it was lighter. I could make out Gorbag's face in the gloom. He was staring ahead absently, listening keenly for trouble. After sometime he turned away and his eyes glazed over. I watched the two sleeping orcs and considered. I could run away and make my way back to Durthang. I could demand that Graystone send me home. But what about my child, and the machines?

With a sinking heart, I curled up to the stones. There was a mechanical purring above me. It was heading due northwest, toward Durthang. I glanced up and saw the gleaming red and ducked low, trembling with fear. As soon as the machine had vanished from sight and I could hear no more, I quickly shook Gorbag awake. "Gorbag! Demolisher!"

The orc sat up with a grunt. "Demolisher? I hear nothing."

"It just passed us."

Gorbag growled, sarcasm dripping down his teeth like slaver. "How rude of them. Be sure to tell them how disappointed we were in their abilities. Of course they just passed us! We're safe down here. They can't hear us."

I frowned, then remembered that no one in Middle-Earth knew about motion and heat sensors. But I guessed he was right as far as how sensitive the Demolishers were. Deadly as they were, they were still weak. But if the people who had made them were so powerful, why hadn't they made them with more strength? I lay back down, but my questions pursued me. They surely hadn't been sent out untested. Perhaps we were guinea pigs and they the scientists. I shuddered and sat up. There was no point in sleeping now. I spent the rest of the time waiting for the orcs to wake up.

The next day we hurried across the broad valley. We didn't dare use the roads now. I struggled to keep up with the orcs, occasionally slipping to be dragged along. Even they seemed worn out. Red lights flashed ahead. Morhont jerked us aside and we dropped into the nearest pit. When no lights fell over us, Gorbag peaked out. He dropped back down with a curse. "Demolishers _and_ RGPs; a great company of them. We'll have to wait for them to pass. Let's hope their scouts don't come here."

Morhont hissed, "I warned you this way would be blocked."

Gorbag snarled at him, but didn't reply. We sat in silence, breathless and nervous. I noticed again that the two orcs were trembling, possibly even more than I because their world wasn't supposed to have hi-tech horrors.

Red light poured over our heads and a loud humming vibrated through the stones. We dropped down on our faces and tried to hide deeper into the shadows. The large jet-like war-machine roared over us, followed by a high pitched whizzing sound. I peaked up and saw a strange little black machine with four heavy arms and a small body with a cannon for a head. It stopped above us and hummed. It darted away like a dragonfly. Another RGP darted by, then two more Demolishers. I covered my ears and whimpered. We could hear the loud thunder of Demolishers all around us, all but drowning the humming of the RGPs.

After a time, the noise ceased and we crawled out carefully. I felt deafened. Gorbag and Morhont stood up and wordlessly pulled me up in typical orc-fashion, only their hands shook. I looked back. The Demolishers were all but gone from sight. Morhont said, "They can't see us way over here. Come on! It's safe."

"Safe?" Gorbag spat. "What do you know?"

The slave-driver glowered at him. With a start, I saw greenish ooze welding up from under the dry blood that caked around the gash down his face. I didn't think he had a scar there in the movie. That didn't forebode well. "Do you see any more of those accursed lights? I bet some of those were the Demolishers we'd run into earlier. They'll be heading back that way. This way should be free of them now."

"Should be." But Gorbag said no more. He gave me a rough shove and we hurried on. We spent three or four Mordor-days stumbling across that barren wasteland in the heart of Mordor. We had little food and weren't much better with water. Morhont had filled his flask not long before the attack, as had Gorbag, but it wasn't enough for a long journey through a desert valley. So we strove on thirsty and hungry. I watched the orcs carefully for any hungry darts in my direction. But they only brooded glumly. When we stopped, they forced me to eat and take drink, taking little for themselves. Being orcs, they could probably survive on less than a pregnant woman.

Far ahead, the light of the Eye flicked about. The Eye's sight set on us. I screamed at the horrible gnawing touch I felt on my mind, the malice to which all other evils I'd passed before dimmed. It was from _him_ that the Ringwraiths had received their power of despair and the orcs their lust and hatred. Even the two orcs flailed when Sauron's sight fell upon us. As suddenly as he'd spotted us, he turned away, releasing us. I collapsed and all other sight was driven away from me.

When I came to, I heard the crackling hiss of campfire. My face was warm and light flickered through my eyelids. I opened them to find myself in the midst of a small company of orcs. Morhont greeted me gruffly, voice etched with malicious humor, "Good morning, Lady Warden. Had nice dreams?" I could tell he was referring to the incident with the Eye. I glared at him in disgust and sat up with a groan. My head was pounding and I could barely remember what I _had _dreamed except for brief snatches that only told me that it had indeed been a nightmare.

A stranger snarled at him, "Shut up, you filthy rat!"

Morhont shut up and left to rejoin Gorbag. The Morgul-orc was indulged in a deep conversation with an orc with a low mouth and mad pale eyes. His voice rasped like grating ashes. I frowned. Another movie orc? This one had been far away from Mordor, in Rohan with the Uruk-hai. I carefully slipped over to see what they were talking about. They fell silent when I came and Gorbag growled to me, "Grishnákh."

I nodded to the crooked orc in acknowledgement. The orc growled, "So you're the cause of all this trouble?"

"What?"

Morhont snarled, irritated, "Why don't you _explain_ to her?"

"Why don't you?"

Gorbag snapped, "I'll deal with it." He seized my arm, digging his claws into my flesh. I cried out in protest as his grip only tightened. He pulled me aside and shoved me down away from the orcs. He wasted no time waiting for me to get comfortable. He sat down and said, stopping only to take a breath once or twice, "The machines were possibly hunting you. You are a fresh Warden and no vagrant fan. Those they encourage, but they consider you the scourge of worlds. Even more so than we see you as a worm. It seems that the war we're preparing for is much more important than we could've guessed, so they _would_ be even more bold in hopes of destroying us. What's worse, according to Grishnákh over there, they got news from Midway about something from your world surviving. You don't… still have something from there on you?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

Gorbag shook his head. "Impossible! You must still have something on you." His voice was near pleading. He rambled, "They say perhaps the Wardens took over the Demolishers and they are sentinels, watching for any remnants from your world that hasn't been destroyed. Perhaps if you could find…"

"I'm sorry. But I really don't have anything from my country, other than my name."

"You can't put markings on your name. It needs a strange black and white patch."

"Bar-codes?"

"I think that's what they call them."

"Why didn't you tell me all this before? And why didn't they come after us before if they are so good?"

"The Demolishers have been gone for millennia. And as for them being sentinels, I don't know. It's just a crazy rumor, but anything's better than another war with those things. During the First Age, or so the stories of the Rift tell, there was a great slaughter. Most of us that had gone east died. Most of the time, they left no survivors at all. But they left Beleriand alone, and we continued there. For some reason they never came there. They just vanished into thin air, it seemed." He snapped his mouth shut.

I shuddered and took a deep breath. "Why don't I ask Midway about it when we reach Lugbúrz?"

"It wouldn't hurt to try. It'll be useless though. Why would they tell you more than what they said to the others?"

I couldn't deny that he was right. It wasn't likely if they hadn't been clear with the other vagrants. Gorbag stood and paced, fists clenched at his side. He stopped with a grunt. "Maybe something was forgotten back at Durthang. Something may have been missed when that fan came."

"But my pants had a bar-code! Why didn't the machines get on my case?"

Gorbag shrugged. "Maybe it's new policy."

"What do you know about policy?"

He gave me a look of disgust. "Out here, policy is _everything_."

I shut up, remembering that the movie hadn't said everything about Middle-Earth. It certainly hadn't said much on the orcs. In fact, there had been little on Mordor at all. There was a lot I didn't know. Not even the results of Mark's obsession with getting only the most complete editions of books and movies had given me a clue.

Morhont's harsh snarl interrupted my thoughts. "Come on, you slugs! What's taking you?"

Gorbag stared at him with calm eyes. His serpentine voice was gruff with annoyance. "We were having a very important discussion, driver."

"If we had to wait on you two rats it would take us years to reach Lugbúrz! You can finish it later, but for now I suggest you do what he tells you." Grishnákh growled. "Leg it!"


	13. Menace

_**A****/N:** This story will not be updated beyond this chapter. Why? Because this story was originally written in 2004, and I am no longer a big fan of LotR and I can no longer remember where I was going with this story._

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**Chapter Thirteen: Menace**

As we went on, the land seemed to grow darker and darker, as though the shadow of the black pinnacle twisting out of the ground devoured all light around it with its evil. I couldn't see the Eye as close as we were, but I could feel a hint of his gaze on us. He was distracted by something only he knew or saw.

Torches lit perimeters fruitlessly, glinting dimly in the dark. A thin thread of lava ran from Barad-dûr to Mount Doom. I learned later that it ran to the furnaces of his smithies and also acted as a last defense if invasion should ever occur. Patches of black brick and stone, plates of iron, and obsidian spines gave the tower a harsher, more orcish feel than Durthang had been.

Great evil lay inside there.

We stopped before the gate. As the gates rumbled open, I looked up in revolted wonder at the crude gashes set above our heads. I heard a deep, almost monotone voice, thick with malice. "Sauron the Great desires your presence in council, Warden."

I shuddered. The hideous bishop thing stood before us. His gigantic maw was set in a disgusting grin; long teeth clenched together as though he fought against a strange desire to rip out someone's throat like an orc. His eyes, if he had any, were hidden under his tall helm etched with ruins.

Gorbag snickered at my discomfort. The thing said, "Follow me," and strode forward into the tower.

Obediently, I followed, flanked by Gorbag and Grishnákh, Morhont following behind. The passage up Barad-dûr was long and hard. We climbed up the first flight of stairs, a long winding stairwell that seemed to last for miles and most likely did. The orcs, especially Morhont, were impatient with our 'sluggish' pace. As for me, the monotonous climbing and twisting up a bleak and hideous stairway to some unseen doom was nearly maddening. I could still remember the piercing gaze of the Eye. The footfalls of the orcs behind me, the heady blend of fear, sweat, and orc-draught, and the constantly moving figure ahead beat down on me like an anvil. I could feel my baby turning over in my stretched stomach. It was so dark that I could see nothing but the torches and the shadow of the creature ahead of us.

I couldn't stand it any longer. I sunk down. Grishnákh rasped, "What do you think you're doing?"

I protested, wheezing, "I can't… I can't keep going like this!"

The man, if he was a man, commanded my orc companions, "Carry her!"

Gorbag knelt and grabbed my arms, painfully. I yelled and struggled to find a comfortable position. When Grishnákh didn't step in and help, Morhont muttered something under his breath and seized my ankles. Even through my shoes, I could feel his claws digging into my skin. The two orcs picked me up, and we went on.

If I'd thought climbing had been bad, being carried by climbing orcs was even worse. My head banged against Gorbag's breastplate with every jolting upward step. I could smell nothing but orc and rancid breath. I squirmed away from him, pulling my arms in the process and pushing my feet into the driver with my full weight. He stumbled and Gorbag was dragged forward. He growled, "Knock it off!" And pulled me back up. Morhont said nothing, but gave a look of disgust. I tried to ignore him, which was hard since the glare in his eyes and the nightmarish outline of his face was all I could see in my position.

I sunk into a near stupor, worn out and bruised, only stirring whenever there was an especially hard jolt. When the two orcs put me down, I opened my eyes and groaned. We were in a dark room with tall chairs set in a circle. Men and orcs alike were seated in them. It reminded me of the Council of Elrond, only the mark of the Eye was imprinted in the center instead of a short pillar of stone and there were two rows of old rotten chairs and one tall stone chair. Those who were already there stood when the man-thing entered with us.

"Take your places," he said, waving me and the three orcs to the four chairs left empty. I stood beside Gorbag and Grishnákh. Morhont took his place next to Gorbag and the man-thing stood beside Grishnákh in the stone chair. The man-thing raised his right hand and said something in the horrible dark tongue. The orcs and men responded with one short yell. I didn't know what they were saying, so I didn't speak. We sat then and the man-thing spoke, "People of Mordor, Midway sends ill tidings. Demolishers have been seen sweeping over Gorgoroth and news of a surviving relic from the Outer world has come from Midway. They have reason to believe that the relic is of great significance. It was taken by an orc. The relic, they believe, is of great significance far beyond the worth of any of you here. Worth the unleashing of the extremists' weapons upon us."

"Impossible! Everything was destroyed. The only thing of danger was the book the last fan brought here. My son destroyed it," the orc-driver said firmly from beside Gorbag. The man-thing snarled at him.

"Are you sure?" He was given no answer. "Consider confronting him."

Morhont snarled at him. "Are you suggesting we'd lie to a Nazgul?" Somehow I wasn't convinced he, of all orcs, wouldn't or hadn't ever lied to anyone before.

"The Mouth is right. No one is incapable of going bad, especially Haglúk," Gorbag growled to him. I added my own words, "Besides, we didn't see him take it. We won't know until we look into it. Perhaps someone took it from him."

"What? Why would Haglúk be content to let someone take it?"

Gorbag said, gruffly, "Maybe we should consider scouting the cities, but it's more likely that whoever took it is hiding in the wild."

"Wouldn't that would explain why the Demolishers have been conjugating there?" I whispered to him, meekly. He grunted in response.

The Mouth spoke then, "We shall make sure of the destruction of the relic." His ugly head moved toward Morhont. "You deal with your son and that'll all we ask of you." The driver snarled at him mutely. "Of course, you could just wait and see if there comes any results from keeping your mouth shut."

"I'll take my chances," Morhont answered hotly.

The Mouth clenched his teeth at him. "I'm sure we'll find ways to convince you. Perhaps I could remind Shîpogrish—"

Morhont twitched. "You wouldn't dare!" But fear choked his angry snarl.

"—You know how short his memory is—Of the little incident at Redhorn. We'll be sending him to Durthang to oversee management there. Things are getting rather sloppy there of late."

I expected Morhont to go into a rage, but the orc-driver flinched and turned rather green and pale. There was an uncomfortable pause. I swallowed and looked from him to the Mouth. That moment, Morhont did one of the most unlikely things I could've ever imagined him doing. He squeaked, "Shîpogrish? At Durthang?"

The Mouth's ugly grin widened, if it were possible. "Yes, he is. As overseer of the slave productivity-" Morhont was now obviously sick. "— But I'm sure there's other places he could help at, if you'd—"

"-Fine! I'll talk to him," barked Morhont.

The Mouth sneered, "I knew you would come to your senses." His hideous visage turned to me. "Does the Warden who was present at Durthang when the fan came wish to speak to Midway? Perhaps they will tell her more thoroughly what's going on."

I gave a shudder of revulsion, taking consideration that he could very well blackmail me as well, then nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Then we have all come to an agreement," the Mouth ridiculed us with his almost flat voice. He nodded his head toward me. "Leave now. Midway is that way." His head turned to the left. I stood and carefully entered.

I blinked for a moment, blinded by the sudden burst of light. Midway was much as I left it, but for the small group huddled together. At an unheard suggestion from one of those around him, Graystone shook his head and said, "Sphyr couldn't have recaptured the Demolishers… If he had, we'd be having trouble in more than one world. And he'd attack a more potent target."

"Yes, Grishnákh told me as much at Lugbúrz," said a man with light brown hair, hazel eyes, and frowning pursed lips. He shook his head and noticed me. "Who's that?"

"A vagrant Warden. She's at Barad-dûr, too, I think." Graystone cocked his head in my direction.

The man broke away from the circle. "Hello there! The Night Tower, is it? Sad to here of it, but at least you aren't alone. I'm Leif." He held out his hand and I shook it.

"Joanne." I grinned at him. He looked weatherworn, about thirty, but he was another Outsider, and from Mordor. It was a wonderful feeling to know I would be around another Warden for awhile.

He asked, "Are you the pregnant vagrant? I'm sorry about that."

I flushed, momentarily embarrassed by the sudden attention. "Don't be."

Leif smiled, but his face was crestfallen. He nodded. "You're right, of course. You could've been a vagrant fan instead of being a vagrant Warden with child. They'll send you back in time. Not so with vagrant fans or unsolicited Outsiders."

Something about the way he said it made me pause. "You're a vagrant, too?"

He nodded. He gave a quirked smile. "I was a fan." I opened my mouth and he raised a hand. "Not of Tolkien. I was a fan of… well, you've never heard of it; it was destroyed before I could reach it and I landed here instead. It was called _Galaxy Quest._ I heard that was how the chaos around the Rift began and when the Wardens came.

I shook my head. "I don't understand! The orcs would surely have killed you. There was no need for them to know about the Rift then, was there?"

"Joanne, the orcs have known about the Rift since they were first made."

"But… how can that be? When was the Rift made?"

Graystone spoke up, breaking away from his group, "1995 by Earth time. The Rift is not Earth and time has little real meaning here. You might say that the worlds are timeless, too, because one person could end up in the First Age and another in the Fourth Age of Middle-Earth at the same time. Midway is timeless in another sense. There is no sense of time out here. Some of us have been here for… well over a millennium." A tired look passed over his aged face. He blinked his eyes clear. "Whenever we speak to Outsiders, we hear that only nine years have passed. Nine years… so says the Universal time, though in truth it is really the Universal date of the Rift's making."

For a second I was stunned by the amount of knowledge he'd poured out. Graystone hadn't seemed the one to talk much. I frowned intently. "Were you there since the beginning?"

Graystone slowly nodded. "I was the one who started it. I was the one who blueprinted the Rift. _I_ built it." His words were heavy with guilt.

I swallowed, feeling the weight of the guilt he must've carried. Millions, maybe more, had died because of his creation. I shook my head, questions racing through my head. They came out in a rush. "What's going on? Who made the Demolishers? Why do the servants of the Dark Lord work so well with Midway?"

"I don't know. My former partner, Sphyr, leads the radical movement, but I don't know when it started or who made the Demolishers. When the Rift started killing everyone and the attempt to destroy it complicated things, the rebels separated from us and made their own place in Midway to hide. At first, we thought they had decided to gather their families and friends into Midway to hide from the chaos of the Rift. I didn't know they were planning to destroy everything to get rid of the Rift."

"Even Earth?"

"They can. If they get to the center of the universe, they very well can. Stories are built off of history, and history is the blueprint of our world. Religion is the blueprint of our very existence, whether it is true or not. Once someone stumbles into history or religious texts and changes things, it could wipe out the Rift, Earth, and the entire multi-dimensional universe."

"Do they know that?"

Graystone snorted. "Yes, they know it. That's their plan. To destroy everything and hope that Midway will be unharmed. But if they erase the Rift, they'd surely destroy Midway, because Midway was made with the Rift. If they erase mankind, they'd erase themselves as well. Billions upon billions of worlds alone would be destroyed in an instant. Arda has affected the creation of many fantasies. If it is destroyed, hundreds of worlds would come down with it."

I swallowed my gorge. "But I don't understand. If Middle-Earth is so important, why does the Enemy know about the Rift?"

"Because vagrants need safety in Middle-Earth away from Rift-danger. And Mordor is one of the few places known about that is safe to hide at. Everyone knows about it, but little was shown. Lothlorien is known of, but little is shown, therefore it is the second choice for vagrants to hide. The orcs learned to worry about the Rift because of the Demolishers. We'd warned them about the dangers of fans and the machines, but they wouldn't believe us. For a long time, we could only send a strong Warden to aid the vagrants, but this left other worlds vulnerable. Ironically, the Enemy received a heavier blow from the Demolishers than the elves and accepted our alliance, though we are also allied to the elves. We taught them how to survive. They saw what the Demolishers could do, but they were still treacherous."

I frowned. "And now they're not?"

"We reason with them. It's the best way to keep them satisfied. Our greatest danger is that someone will find out about what will happen to Mordor. An orc with that knowledge would be exceedingly dangerous. Orcs are given to despair and malice. All they need is a door to make everyone pay when despair seizes them."

I didn't quite understand. How could anyone reason with the orcs until they possibly became even stronger allies of the Rift than they were servants of the Enemy? I asked Graystone this. He said, "We reason that if the Demolishers truly exist than who's to say everything else we'd warned them about isn't true? They said they could kill us, but we reminded them of the extremists. If we leave Middle-Earth, the Demolishers will destroy them all and their world will cease to exist. They won't be able to enjoy the loot they'd have if they take over Middle-Earth."

I asked, "Doesn't that give them a reason to believe that they will have victory?"

Graystone nodded. "You see why knowledge would be dangerous," he commented softly.

I considered. Someone had suggested Sphyr had taken over the Demolishers, but others worried about something important having leaked into Middle-Earth. I asked, "Do you control the Demolishers?"

"Not really. They're sensitive to bar-codes. We don't know what they see. We reprogrammed them so that when they sense something dangerous, they become active and start hunting down orcs with similar strands of DNA to that of the one who seized the relic. They concentrate mostly on Gorgoroth and the plains of Mordor because it's believed that the thief would flee into the wilderness."

"Demolishers attacked us on our way here. All of the slaves were killed. We barely escaped with our lives."

He sighed and rubbed his temples. "That scratches out the chance that Sphyr was involved. But tell me about the incident with the fan and your journey here."

I did so. He started when he heard about the book and shook with rage when he heard we'd left without making sure of its destruction. He didn't speak, but he turned very pale. He interrupted often, asking questions about Haglúk and the behavior of the machines. I told him also about the Mouth's council.

He shook his head at last and sighed. "I fear the worst. Haglúk sounds like a potential danger, but his father doesn't want to acknowledge it. Morhont, by what the others have said, is determined to win back his rank. Shame will keep him back from regaining it, or so he thinks. Things aren't looking well. At least, orcs can't read English script. This isn't the book world anyway. But I fear that if we don't find the book, the Demolishers will continue to terrorize Gorgoroth even into the War of the Rings. That would destroy Arda."

"Why doesn't our presence and their awareness of the Rift destroy Arda?"

"You don't see thoughts in movies. The elf-friends are more concerned with the war than with the Rift. However if one thing is changed from the movie… such as you being with Shagrat and Gorbag when they find Frodo or an orc being where he shouldn't be, or orcs acting different from the movie… and it would be the end. As long as the movies aren't damaged and none of the orcs who were in the movie are killed, there would be no damage from our existence."

I started to ask another question but he interrupted. "We told the Enemy that the knowledge of their future and about Earth could destroy them in an instant. That's true, in a way, but it wouldn't be instant. They would destroy themselves and Arda by the time of the movie, unless we have unusually good fortune."

I shook my head, in a daze. I was beginning to feel queasy from his talk. I said, "I need to go back."

Graystone nodded, and I fled.

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_**A/N:** All good (or mediocre) things must end, complete or incomplete. This is the last completed chapter of Rift. Someday, maybe I'll regain my interest in Lord of the Rings, but don't count on it. Or my completing this story from 2004. I hope you enjoyed what I had nonetheless._


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